


Cactus Flowers

by Lemon (lemon_sprinkles)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Western, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Gay Sex, Guns, Historical Accuracy, Horses, M/M, Minor Character Death, Romance, Violence, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-11
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-11-11 21:22:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 36
Words: 165,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/483028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemon_sprinkles/pseuds/Lemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where the only thing you can trust is your gun and your skill, Loras Tyrell wasn't expecting much support when he decided to run away from home on the eve of his wedding day. Leaving the place of rich men and proper ladies, and entering into one filled with stealing, killing and cheating, Loras finds himself traveling with a man who has the smile of a saint but a twinkle in his eyes like that of the devil, and can't help but think maybe he's in over his head. One thing is always true no matter where you are, though-- hesitation will get you killed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hesitation

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters in the below piece of fiction belong to George RR Martin and I am in no way profiting off of it
> 
> Warning: None
> 
> Authors Note: I was given the idea of a Western fic by a friend of mine, and went wild with it-- I mean, how can you not go wild with a Western theme? It will be a total of 36 chapters all together, so hopefully you'll all be in it for the long haul. The story begins in 1890, just as the Wild West is beginning to be tamed and America is closing in her borders.

“Crown him with many crowns, the Lamb upon his throne—“

 She was looking at him. Quick glances now and again. Peeks over her hymns booklet, smiles flashed and cheeks turning crimson anytime their eyes locked.

“—awake my soul, and sing, of him who died for thee—“

  _When she blushes she matches her hair,_ he thought, faltering just then with the lyrics, his eyes lifted from the page for too long, causing him to lose his place.

“—who triumphed o’er the grave—“

He tried to find his place again, mouthing random words, pretending to sing as the choir continued on without him. He was supposed to know this hymn by heart, but shooting gophers in the field had always called to him more than Sunday school ever had.

“—who died eternal life to bring—“

 He felt eyes on him again and looked up to see she was singing along perfectly despite her attention being fixed completely on him. _She has a pretty smile_ , he thought, _and a pretty singing voice. And a gentle heart._

But that was about it. Nothing more. Just pretty. Gentle and pretty…

“—and lives that death may die—“

 He’d been told he was lucky—all of the men at the ranch and from town continually congratulated him on the upcoming marriage, smiles on their faces, broad, rough palms slapping his back and hats tilted in his direction. He’d smile back and nod, and verbally agree with them. Yes, Sansa Stark was a catch, and yes, Sansa Stark would fit in nicely with the Tyrell family, and yes, Sansa Stark did know how to make a mean gravy.

 These lyrics he knew. He’d learned how to recite it all after he’d been told he was to marry two months ago. It was for the best of the family, he’d been told. The Starks owned mines up North and the Tyrells ran one of the biggest cattle ranches in Texas—if they were to align, financial security would be theirs.

 The union was for the best. The union would work out. The union would bring about peace of mind for all...

 All but one.

 Sansa Stark would make a good wife, he had told himself repeatedly as the days went by and the marriage loomed nearer. This was what he wanted, he tried to convince himself. This made him happy. Her smile made him happy. Her delicate voice made him happy. The touch of their hands as they strode through the field made him happy.

 But it didn’t.  None of it made him happy. It made him feel scared and tense. It made him feel stifled and suffocated. He was supposed to love and adore her, and yet it wasn’t coming. The marriage was three days away and no matter how many times Loras tried to convince himself that she was more than just pretty and gentle, the feelings never came. The intensity and the desire never came. She was just _pretty._  

 He’d asked Garlan once, what he thought about when he saw his girl; the sweet woman from the ranch acres over, with the straw coloured hair and a blue ribbon to tie it back. Garlan would always smile when he asked, as if just thinking about her could bring him happiness, and would lean back in his saddle or against the fencepost and begin to wax poetically about how it felt—how _love_ felt.

 Loras knew he’d never felt that. Loras knew he’d never felt it for any of the girls wandering around. They were nice to him, always smiling and flirting, tittering behind their hands and blushing when he’d smile at them. They were sweet and gentle and soft. And it should appeal to him. Feelings of lust or desire should have grasped hold of him at some point. But the thought of kissing Sansa on their wedding night left his mouth tasting of ash.

“—they praise and glory shall not fail, throughout eternity.”

 The shuffle of papers and the nudge of an elbow against his side made the words on the sheet in front of him stop blurring, and with shaking hands he closed the book and slid out from between the pews, Margaery following behind along with the rest of his family.

 “Ms. Stark was looking at you an awful lot this morning,” Margaery mumbled as they stepped outside, the hot sun already beating down on the dry ground. “She has a very pretty smile.”

 Loras sighed, his hand trembling as he placed his hat back on. “Yes… very pretty.”

XX

“The wind has been picking up the last few days.”

 “Do you think a storm might be coming?”

 “I hope so—it’s been dry for too long. Farmers are going to start suffering, which means we will, too, once the grain stops coming in.”

 “How many cattle do we have out further from the ranch?”

 “Enough that you and your brother will need to go out and get ‘em back if this storm does end up coming. Can you do that for me?”

 “Of course.”

 “… Loras?”

 Gaze snapping up from the baked potato on his plate, Loras turned his attention to his father, eyes wide. “Yes?”

 “The cattle—can you and your brother help the ranch hands with them if the storm comes?”

 Nodding, Loras gripped his cutlery tight once more, fork shifting the last of his food around on the plate. “Yeah, of course, Pa.”

  He saw his father furrow his brows, his large moustache drooping. “Have you been listening to any of this conversation?”

 “Yes.” A lie—one that his grandmother saw right through. She’d been staring at him on and off throughout the meal, setting him more on edge, as if she wanted something. Usually she’d just blurt out what she was thinking, but the fact that she’d been so silent for so long made Loras even more nervous. In fact, she’d been awfully quiet around him the last week or so, as if she was waiting for something…

  He ignored her, and smiled softly at his father. “I was just taking the time to… reflect about the day.”

 “Find anything useful in the depths of that potato?” Garlan asked, causing Margaery and Willas to both laugh.

 “Don’t tease your brother,” his mother interjected. “He’s getting married in a few days and has every right to reflect. In fact, I think you should all take the time to reflect more often. It could do you some good—make you more balanced and centered. And you’ll focus less on some of the ladies around town.” She sent Garlan a pointed stare.

 The direction of the conversation left Loras quickly after that, a small blessing for him. The word marriage made his throat constrict, swallowing hard as he once again stared at his plate, lost in thought. Three days… three days until he was expected to put away silly notions of leaving to seek out adventure somewhere else; three days until he was expected to be a husband and soon a father; three days until his life became something he didn’t _want_.

 He felt trapped.

 Manipulated.

 Given a responsibility he never wanted or asked for.

 Garlan would be marrying soon, too, they told him. Garlan was expected to carry forth with the same duties, to live the same life, to feel and care for his family. It wasn’t supposed to be an issue for Loras, and he didn’t _want_ it to be an issue. But how come Garlan was already in love with his fiancé? How come it was so easy for Garlan and yet so difficult for him? How come none of this was working out for him?

 All he wanted was to go on an adventure—to jump into the picture books he’d owned as a child and explore the world around him, or ride off into the sunset like in the novellas Willas wrote. But he’d never get the chance to try it.

 Because he’d be married in three days.

 The clatter of his fork against his plate startled him from his musing, and all eyes were on him. There was a pause in the conversation, and silence took over, a shock from the previous conversation and scrape of cutlery against porcelain plates. “I… I’m sorry,” he mumbled, wondering why everyone was staring at him, as if they expected something from him, just like his grandmother. _Why was everyone_ expecting _something of me?_

 “Loras,” Margaery mumbled, her soft hand on his arm, gentle and reassuring, and yet stifling at the same time.

 “What?” His tone was sharper than he intended, and he immediately regretted it as soon as it slipped out. But before he had a chance to apologize, she was speaking again, her eyes flicking down to his hand for a moment.

 “You’re trembling.”

 Immediately he looked down at his hands, fingers balling into fists when he realized just how much he was shaking. Embarrassed and not completely understanding what was going on, Loras reacted by standing up, knocking his chair back against the wall. “I’m sorry, I need some fresh air,” he said, stumbling out of the dining area. He could hear the sound of his father’s voice loudly asking what was wrong to whoever would listen, but he continued on his way, slamming the door open on to the porch. His head was pounding and throbbing against his temples, his throat dry and straitened, and the spit that had collected in his mouth had turned sour.

 Stumbling towards the railing along the porch, Loras collapsed against it and spit, his arms shaking as he held himself up. Hunched over, he stared at the ground below, spots of dying grass coming out of the dirt. It was too dark to see much else, but he welcomed it. Taking a few steading breaths, he continued to stare at the grass, one blade reflecting the pale moonlight. Down where those who worked the ranch lived, Loras could hear muffled conversation and laughter, campfire light lighting up the small village further down the dirt road from the house. 

 Concentrating on the hum of voices and the chirp of the fiddle playing insects, Loras continued to breath. He needed to get a hold of himself—he needed to stop panicking. He was eighteen and an adult, expected to take on the responsibilities. He’d known this day would come; he had to be strong.

 He had to be normal.

 “Are you alright?”

 Stiffening, Loras wheeled around, hand rising to brush away the bit of spit that had collected at his lip. Willas stood by the door, leaning to one side, cane in his hand. An accident, years before Loras could really remember. A horse fell on him when he was training it—a devastating blow to the family. And yet his familiar tilted silhouette brought comfort to Loras.

 “I’m fine,” he said.

 “You don’t look fine.”

 “It’s nothing,” he mumbled, feeling like he was being expected to do something again. “I just… I’m fine.” Lie. _Just keep outwardly lying, because if you voice those concerns, if you tell anyone, it’ll become a reality—a force that much more powerful and that much harder to handle_. He turned his attention away from Willas, his brother’s gaze too much to bear. It reminded him of his grandmother—always knowing, always all-seeing.

 Willas was about to say something, but Loras scuffed his boot hard against the wood beneath his feet before heading to the barn, a destination he knew all too well. Willas called after him, asking where he was going, and Loras turned to tell him not to follow, continuing on his way to the barn. The smell of horses and hay, the feel of Daisy’s mane in his hands as he braided the course hairs—it would ground him and center him, take him from damning thoughts.

 There was shuffling behind him, and he let out a frustrated growl, the unmistakable sound of Willas following him loudly declaring just how much his family lacked something called ‘personal space’ and ‘alone time’. Tossing open the door to the barn, Loras pulled out a pack of matches from his pants and struck one, lighting the lantern that was right at the door, away from the hay and other flammables. A soft glow filled the barn, and Loras headed towards Daisy’s stall. As soon as he saw her, he let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, her big brown eyes curious as he stepped in with her, hanging the lantern up on a post. Her golden coat shone beautifully under the lanterns’ light, like she was coated in golden dust, while her mane and tail were the colour of cream. Loras had been given Daisy when she was a foal and he was only twelve. He was expected to train her and treat her well, and she’d become Loras’ pride and joy over the years. The two were basically inseparable.

The press of a velvet nose found his hand, and he rubbed her nose gently, eyes closing and forehead pressing against her own. She let out a soft nicker, and Loras smiled. “Hello to you, too,” he mumbled, scratching under her chin. Already he was feeling better, Daisy’s silent understanding and comforting presence enough to make it so he didn’t want to scream and yell and cry.

 But the peace did not last. “Loras?”

 “What?” He did not turn around to face Willas, his back to his brother as Daisy lifted her head and inspected the new arrival. She was only briefly curious before she turned away from both of them, rump nudging Loras out of the way as she quickly dismissed them both. “Look what you did,” he grumbled, turning around to glare at Willas.

 “I did not do that—you’re lack of apple slices for her did that,” he said, limping over to a chair that rested against one of the posts. Sitting down, he stretched his leg out and propped his cane on his lap. He didn’t say anything, and Loras made no move to converse either. They just stayed where they were, Loras staring at one of the posts while Willas stared at him. Clenching his jaw, Loras fiddled with a leather strap he kept on his person, something to keep his hands busy when he grew too bored or felt too cooped up. It came out mostly during church.

 “You know I’m not going to leave until you tell me.” Willas’ voice was soft, but it was loud enough to break the tentative peace inside the barn.

 “I could just leave.”

 “Then I’d follow you.”

 “I’m not troubled—nothing is bothering me.”

 “You’re a shit liar.”

 “What do you want me to say?!” he suddenly snapped, voice raised as he turned on Willas, brows furrowed and chin thrust forward, his teeth clenched together, as if to physically hold his emotions back. He didn’t want to verbalize it. He didn’t want to make it a reality.

 “I want you to tell me the truth, Loras. Something is bothering you and it’s eating you up inside. Is it about the marriage?”

 Loras didn’t say anything. He just snorted, hand rising to run through brown curls. His finger caught and he pulled it out, embracing the sting on his scalp.

 “What is it about the marriage that’s got you worried?”

  Sighing, Loras went back to fiddling with the leather strap; eyes downcast as his fingers pulled and twirled it around. Biting his bottom lip, he rocked back on his heels, bouncing a bit, debating the merits of just voicing his concerns. Maybe Willas would tell him he was being a moron and that it was normal to not… not desire his soon to be wife, or any woman for that matter. And that it was normal to not want to be tied down, instead to go on adventures like in the books Willas wrote.

 “Do you think Ma and Pa loved each other when they married?” he tentatively asked. He looked up then, still tugging away at the strap between his fingers as he stood in Daisy’s stall.

 Willas shrugged. “I suppose so—I haven’t asked. Wasn’t around when they got married so I wouldn’t know. Why? Are you worried about not loving Miss Stark?” He nodded. “Loras, love doesn’t come right away—you barely know the girl. Give it time and I’m sure it will come.”

 “What if it doesn’t?”

 Willas shrugged again. “I wouldn’t worry about that, Loras. Miss Stark is a lovely lady and there is no reason not to love her. She adores you—you can see it in her eyes.”

 Loras could, which made it all the more difficult. “But what if you don’t… don’t like any of the girls wandering around… like, what if you’ve never paid them any mind. Never cared?”

 He looked back down at the strap, thumb rubbing against the course side. Willas did not say anything for a time, and Loras felt the urge to flee rising. This was foolish and wouldn’t get him anywhere. What did Willas know, anyways?

 “You’ve always been a free spirit,” Willas finally said, and Loras looked up to see him smiling. He found himself returning it tentatively. “You know, some of the inspirations for the characters in my stories have come from you.”

 “Really?”

 “Yeah—I’m working on this new one in which the ranger has this sidekick with him. He’s this young man who thinks he’s got it all figured out, but is really just… well, a young man like you. Naive but excited, wild but cultured. A mixed bag of everything… he’s everything you are. And he’s afraid of things just like you are.”

 “I’m not afrai—“

 “Yeah, you are, Loras. Which is fine—everyone is allowed to be afraid. I mean, marriage is a big commitment…”

  Loras rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the reminder.”

 “But you can do it if you want to… but only if you _want_ to,” Willas said. Locking eyes with similar hazel hues, Loras took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, trying to make sense of Willas’ true meaning.

 “I’ve got no choice, Willas…”

 “If you think you don’t, then you don’t.” Standing, Willas stuck his cane down on the ground and wiggling it around a bit, stabilizing himself. “You know, in my story, this side-kick was in a tight spot and didn’t know what to do. He has two choices, either betray his friends and the ranger, or stay true to his heart...”

 “What did he choose?” Loras asked slowly.

 Willas shrugged. “I don’t know yet, but whatever choice he makes is going to be the right one…” He smiled then. “Don’t stay out here too late, else Pa might think you’d up and gone in the middle of the night.”

  He left Loras in the stall, Loras’ hands stilled around the leather strap.

XX

 Loras had never been one to hesitate. He was brash and bold, forward and direct. If he wanted something, he’d take it, and if he didn’t, he’d brush it aside. He’d been called spoiled more than once, and he’d been told to hold himself back—to think things through. But he never paid those warnings nor those insults any mind, instead surging forward with just the same gusto as before. Being spontaneous had always worked well for him—seizing the day had been a tried and true way to live his life.

 And that was why he was climbing out the window of his bedroom with his saddlebags flung over a shoulder, what little money he could find stuffed in his pockets, and wearing his most durable riding clothes, with his hat stuck firmly in place on his head.

  He thought over Willas’ words for far too after he’d left him in the barn, replaying the knowing look in his eyes and the tone in his voice, unwilling to return to the house for some time, realization slowly dawning on him. Willas knew, but more importantly, Willas _understood_. He understood Loras’ fears and concerns, but instead of reprimanding him or making him feel a fool, he supported him and offered him advice in his own subtle way.

 He eventually returned to the house and retired to his room, turning off the lantern only to lie on his bed in the dark, clothes still on and his eyes wide as he watched a spider scuttle across the ceiling. He did not think in that time—did not take the time to process what he was going to do. He just laid on the bed, hands across his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart as it increased in tempo with every second that passed. The house eventually grew silent, the servants done their work as his family slept in their beds while the ranch hands retired for the evening, their fires going out while the only conversation was from the insects and the night creatures.

 And that was when Loras stood, the pounding of his heart too much to bear. He either had to make a break for it _now_ , or live with his choice to stay and never stray. It was now or never, and Loras wasn’t about to let his philosophy in life abandon him now. Hesitation would get you stuck.

 Slipping on his jacket and grabbing his saddlebags, he took what he needed from his room—money and matches, a letter from Margaery she’d written for him when he was sick with the flu and no one could visit him—before slipping out of his room to go to the kitchen. Grabbing a few apples and some jerky, he shoved them all in the saddlebag, footfalls silent on the wooden floors as he hurried to the back porch where the rifles lay. His was in the middle, one of the new Winchester rifles, the barrel black as coal, the stock a dark, rich wood and the metal with a rose and vine engraving along the side—custom done just for him. He’d been given the gun for his eighteenth, just three months ago. It was a gift from his father, congratulations for not only becoming a man, but a man worthy of respect.

 The meaning behind the gun staved Loras’ hand just as he was about to grab it, guilt for the first time creeping along his spine and into his gut. His father expected him to see his duty through; his entire family did. What he was doing was selfish…

 _Now or never_ , he repeated, and plucked the gun from its resting place before grabbing an ammo belt, filling it with ammo with shaking fingers, his heartbeat racing. He hadn’t even left yet, but already the excitement he thought he’d lost was coursing through him, making his palms tingle and his lips quirk up in a smile. Filling the belt, he swung it up and over his head, resting it across his chest and over a shoulder, before putting his rifle holster over his back, his gun resting inside it. He picked up one last ammo belt and wrapped it around his waist, shoving one of the family’s handguns in the holster, and then hurried back upstairs, staying as quiet as possible, carrying guns and ammo and his saddlebag. One of the ranch dogs slept at the front door, and the back door had a terrible squeak when you opened it. His only option was through his bedroom window and across the roof to jump down into the garden patch.

 He’d done it enough times throughout his life, his young, imaginative nature when he was a child making it almost impossible to keep him still for too long. He’d sneak out when it was dark and stroll around the ranch, before heading to the back of the barn where he’d lie on the ground and stare up at the night sky, making up stories or recalling ones his brother’s had told him. Sometimes Margaery would join him, the two having grand adventures together under the pale moonlight. That habit was serving him well now as he slipped from the window with ease and padded across the roof as best he could, spurs jingling gently. Reaching the end of the roof, he lay on his stomach and lowered the saddlebag as far as they could go, before dropping them on to the soften dirt. He followed soon after, dangling off the ledge, letting go to land with a muffled thud, followed by a hushed swear as he sat on a row of carrots.

 He didn’t have time to wait and see if anyone heard him, and was up and out of the dirt, hurrying across the laneway towards the barn. Getting inside, he didn’t bother lighting a lantern, afraid it would draw too much attention, and simply navigated his way through the barn, reaching Daisy with ease. She was asleep when he found her, head dropped and eyes closed, but her ears twitched when he neared, and her head was lifted soon after. He didn’t give her the usual greeting, and instead dropped the saddlebags beside the stall on his way to the tack.

He worked quickly and efficiently in the dark, setting up everything on Daisy, muscle memory in every action. But just as he was finishing up by feeding Daisy some oats—a reward for being so quiet—he heard the door to the barn door open. Freezing, he ignored Daisy as she nuzzled him gently, looking for more sweets, his eyes wide and breathing stopped as whoever it was worked their way through the barn with just as much familiarity.

 He was about to duck down, perhaps hide behind the stall and hope that they did not look at Daisy with her saddle and bridle on, but it was too late.

 Margaery had seen him.

 She stood in her nightgown, hair in a tight bun covered by a cap, and it was clear she’d just woken, her shoes untied as she came out in a hurry. But her eyes were wide and alert, obvious in the darkness of the barn.

 “Margaery,” he whispered, not knowing what else to say. He frantically thought up and excuse he could use—a way to bypass it all. _I wasn’t running away, I was just going for a midnight ride, I was nervous that Daisy’s saddle was broken and I needed to see if it still fit, I was sleepwalking_ —

 “Are you leaving?”

 Loras closed his mouth, his mind shutting down as she asked the question. It wasn’t asked in an accusatory nor a supportive way, her tone even and leveled—as if she was asking him if he was tired or how the cattle were.

 He didn’t know what to tell her other than the truth. He’d never been able to lie to her. “Yes.”

 She didn’t move or say anything for a moment. Just stood, processing it, her lips slightly pursed, eyes flicking from Daisy to Loras. “How long do you figure you’ll be gone?”

 He shrugged. He didn’t know.

 “Do you even know where you’re going?”

 He didn’t. “Yeah, a vague idea.”

 “You ever going to come back?”

 “I don’t know…”

 She moved then, her hand reaching for his inside the stall. Grabbing hold, she squeezed down, lips tight and eyes still wide. She looked close to crying, but her strength prevented it. “Promise me you’ll come back one day. I don’t care when—just promise me you’ll come back eventually.”

 She squeezed down harder, and Loras reached for her hand with his free one, their eyes still locked. Gently prying her fingers off of his hand, he held them between his own coarser palms, the gloves he wore still not good enough to keep them soft and supple. “I promise,” he found himself saying. There was no way he could leave Margaery for forever—no way. Once again, the reality of what he was doing began to sink in. He was leaving his family, most likely for a very, very long time. He was disowning himself willingly, and all for what?

 “You go and you have adventures, alright? You do that for the both of us,” she said, filling Loras with that courage just as he felt himself falter. “Live like we always thought we would when we were kids.”

 “I will,” he promised once more. She pulled her hand away then, and Loras opened the stall, grabbing hold of Daisy’s reigns to pull her out. Margaery moved out of the way, but was pressed up against him in a tight hug as soon as he was out of the stall. Wrapping an arm around her, he held her close, kissing the side of her head and rubbing her back. “I love you, Marg. Stay strong, alright?”

 “I will,” she mumbled, pulling away. Reaching up, she patted his cheek gently, tears now freely falling. But she was smiling, and there was no sadness in her gaze. There was no reason for him to tell her to stay strong—she’d been doing it all her life.

 “Thank you.”

 She nodded and playfully tugged at a stray curl before stepping back. “Get out of here before someone hears you. I’ll lock up the barn.” Nodding, he headed to the large doors and slid them open, hopping on to Daisy as soon as they were in the light of the moon and the stars.

 He turned around once, watching as Margaery closed one door. She noticed his gaze on her mid-way through and paused, mouth pulled tight, a moment of hesitation, before she collected herself and nodded her head towards the exit of the ranch. “Don’t look back,” she said as loudly as she dared.

 Loras opened his mouth to say something—one last thing—but found himself at a loss for words. Nothing he said would ease the situation for either of them. Closing his mouth, he nodded, turned around, and kicked Daisy into a fast trot.

 He did not look back.  


	2. Forgotten Gloves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The characters in the below piece of fiction do not belong to me, rather they are property of GRRM. I am simply borrowing them
> 
> Warnings: None
> 
> Authors Note: Thanks so much for the interest you guys! There should be a new chapter posted once a week, so hopefully you all stay interested throughout! It's only going to get more action packed, dangerous, and sexy from here on out.

They say that God has a way of sending messages. Sometimes it was subtle; other times it was not.

 Sitting under a scraggly tree while the rain poured down around him, Loras figured God was trying to say something.

 As soon as he left the ranch he’d taken the road that lead directly away from the nearby town, realizing that his father would most likely go looking for him there, first. The trouble was, he knew little of the area he’d found himself in, having spent most of his life venturing to and from the town to the East, or down South where their cattle roamed and their acres sprawled. He knew the general area, of course, but if he traveled too far (which he planned on doing), he’d enter a grey zone; one that he’d only seen on maps. Maps that had no real landmarks on them, save for other ranches and homesteads that all happened to be friends with his family.

 Everyone knew everyone around the area, which was a detriment to Loras. He needed anonymity, knowing that his father would send people out looking for him. His father never let anything go, especially when it was one of his _sons_ running away from his duty.  It would reflect badly on him. And part of Loras liked to think he’d be worried about him, too.

 As the evening wore on and the beating in Loras’ heart slowed down the further he got from the ranch, he started to think about what he’d done. Swaying back and forth on Daisy as she meandered down the well-used path, he rested his rifle across his lap and held on to it with one hand. What had he gotten himself into? He did not know the rout he was taking, nor did he know where he was really going. He has no destination—no purpose except to run away. He was unprepared, and tried as he might to convince himself otherwise, he was quickly humbled whenever a shadow would catch his eye on the moonlight fields all around him, making him gasp and grip his rifle tight, ready to shoot at the first sign of movement.

 Paranoid, lost and frightened, Loras rode for hours until the moon began to wane and the sun began to rise. But even then there was no reprieve from the thoughts that ran around in his head. Willas had always said that clarity and certainty came with the rise of the sun, but Loras was beginning to realize it was a load of horse shit. He finally stropped a short distance away from the road, hopping off of Daisy and leading her into a field where scraggly bushes and shrubs lay grouped together in the middle. Holding on to her reins, he inspected the plants, quickly determining none of them were edible or particularly useful.

 He’d brought food with him—enough to last him a few days—but he wasn’t sure if he’d reach anywhere in that time. But his stomach growled and ached, and any planning was pushed aside in favour of quelling the hunger pangs. Sitting down by the shrubs, he kept his front to the trail, the occasional wagon passing by.

 No one paid the boy and his horse any attention.

 As soon as his meager meal of a bit of jerky and a few swigs of water from his canteen was done, he was back on Daisy after giving her a good scratch under her bridle, apologizing to her for making her continue, both of them tired from the late night exertion. But Loras was unwilling to stop for too long, anxious someone would recognize him.

 Things only got worse when the fabled storm loomed overhead. Loras could see it slowly collecting as he headed down into the valley. The clouds began to accumulate, dark and black underneath, while the tops were fluffy and white—belying the danger that lurked below. The air started to grow thick and heavy, resting on his shoulders and in his lungs like soot, while a certain sort of energy crackled in the air. Daisy’s ears stayed perked up and alert, little rumbles from her matching those from the approaching storm.

 Loras stared the storm down for some time, watching it, waiting for it, wondering if it would hit. He acted as if he could work against God and his powers, daring him to unleash his worst; daring him to send him a sign that this was a mistake.

 God took that challenge. But Loras was not humbled.

 Sitting under the tree, he wrapped his coat tight around him, the brim of his hat bent downwards to shield his face as the rain came down like curtains. He’d given Daisy more of the shelter under the tree, but she was frightened by the large thunder claps, the whites of her eyes light up along with the sky. He’d stood with her and rubbed her nose gently for a time, back against the tree and eyes closed as he waited it out, soaked to the bone already. The thunder rolled on quickly, but the rain stayed, and Loras succumbed to the exhaustion and collapsed against the tree, Daisy calm once the thunder left. Sitting in the mud and staring out at the field that was sparely populated by wasting trees and hardy shrubs, Loras contemplated his decision.

 He couldn’t go back—he’d committed himself to it. He’d made his choice long ago, and only just realized it last night. He was supposed to do this.

 _And fuck God if he thinks otherwise_ , he thought as he watched the small puddles around him get bigger and bigger.  This wasn’t some sign—this wasn’t an ill omen. It was… a test. Yes, a test of endurance. And if he could make it (and Daisy did not trample him to death for getting them into this situation), it would get better. He’d be rewarded. It never started out easy for anybody, why should he be the exception? With perseverance in the face of harsh times, came great rewards. 

 Or so he told himself as his teeth chattered and his toes grew cold.

 Eventually the storm died down, Loras able to see the edge of it as it crept closer and closer to him. The rays of the sun spread out before him, casting the flat land in its brilliant light, and soon it had reached Loras and Daisy under the meager shelter they’d found. The touch of warmth on his cheeks brought a smile back to Loras’ face, and he stood, pulling his wet jacket off and rolling it up before shoving it in one of the saddlebags. Untying Daisy’s reins, he grabbed them and started out across the field, mindful of any gopher holes or other dangers for his horse as he made his way back to the long road that went on forever.

 “Maybe we’ll go to the end of the world if we keep walking this way,” Loras said to Daisy, kicking a stone. “Willas told me there is a place in South America they call the end of the world. I suppose it would fit—we don’t rightly know what comes after South America. Like, is there another continent? Or just water?”

 Loras had never seen an ocean, living his life as a landlocked cowboy all his life near the Indian Territory. The thought of seeing that much water in front of him both terrified and intrigued him—he could only guess what it would be like to see so much… openness before him. The Texas prairies were wide and vast, and sometimes, when the wind was blowing right and he just stayed still, it’d looked as if the grass was rippling like water. Margaery once said it looked more like a heard of ghost Buffalo were running through the field.

 Maybe he’d go to California to see the Pacific Ocean, to get a sense of what a water ocean looked like, rather than a grass one. Or maybe he’d go all the way North to the Dominion of Canada. Maybe he’d just keel over and die right now in the middle of the field.

 Anything was possible.

 “Where do you want to go?” Loras asked Daisy as they reached the main road. Getting up on her, he patted her neck as they began to wander down the lonely stretch, “Canada or California—or how about down to Mexico? I’ve heard the rocks there can get as red in colour as fire.” Smiling at the thought, Loras rested his hand on the pommel of his saddle, relaxing for the first time. It was amazing what a bit of sunlight could do for a person.

 He was about to speak again when he saw two figures coming his way down the road. Immediately his hand slid over to his side to rest over the handle of his handgun. He’d never used his revolvers much for anything other than target practice, but Loras knew exactly what they’d been made for. He was slightly shocked at how easily it came to him—to reach for the handle of his gun as soon as a stranger approached—but he embraced the strangeness. It was a good habit to have.

 His hand slowly dropped when the pair drew closer—an older gentleman and a lady with him. Perhaps a daughter and father pair.  He’d been too hesitant to ask anyone on the road where he was headed to or if there was any town close by, but the invigorating energy of the sun’s rays had made Loras bold, and he waved as they approached. The old man waved back, and Loras slowed Daisy down as they drew near. Stopping a short distance from one another, Loras tipped his hat at the pair, the father once again doing the same.

 “Howdy,” the man said, broaching the conversation first. His hand was hovering near his gun, but Loras paid it little mind—he meant no harm, but he was a man and he was young, and this gentleman has a young lady to protect. “What can we do for you?”

 “I’m wondering if there is a town nearby,” he asked, keeping his eye on the man so as not to upset him, lest he figure his eyes were wandering too much. Loras wanted to tell him he had no interest in his daughter, but figured the man had heard that before.

 “Mm, there’s a small little place about half a day’s ride. Not much there, but there is a general store you can go to if you need supplies, and a place to hitch your horse.” He seemed hesitant to tell Loras about it, and there was a hint of distain to the man’s voice even as he told him. But Loras did not pay attention, instead caught up on the fact that there was _something_ close by.

 It didn’t sound like much, but a general store and a place to let Daisy rest was all he really needed. Hopefully he’d be able to pick up a map while he was there, or at least get some general directions towards a… well, he didn’t know where to. But he had to just keep moving. “Thank you kindly, sir,” he said, tipping his hat.

 Nudging Daisy, they continued on their way, passing the old man and his daughter. But as they passed, the man gave him a curious look, and called to Loras. Reining Daisy in, he looked over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. “You look familiar…” the man said, and Loras sucked in a breath. Peering at him, Loras tried to remember anything about the man that would make him familiar as well—wrinkles on his forehead, leather tanned skin, a bushy white moustache, and beady blue eyes. He just looked like a common old man on a common old horse. But if the man knew him…

 “Why do you say that, sir?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even. _Even if he does know me, it’ll take at least a day for word to reach anyone outside of the Ranch that I’ve gone missing_ , he thought, waiting for the man to stop inspecting him.

 “I don’t know…” the man finally said, and Loras finally looked over at his daughter. She was unfamiliar as well. “You’re not one of those Cornbray boys, are you?”

 Loras let out the air through his nose slowly, relief flooding his system. “No, no I’m not. I’m a Hewett boy.” The lie slipped out easily enough, along with a reassuring smile and a nod. He made no move to cover the tooling on his saddle—intricate roses and vines swirled about the swell and fender. It was common knowledge that the Tyrell family had always favoured roses, and the symbol of the rose became synonymous with them. Has Loras really wanted to hide his identity he wouldn’t really have been able to, anyways. Everything he owned, right down to his riding gloves, had some sort of rose symbol on it. But the man did not seem to notice, or if he did he did not care, and let Loras go with a grunt.

 Kicking Daisy into a trot, Loras wanted to create as much distance between them as quickly as possible. Just in case.

XX

 He arrived at the small town just as the sun was setting once more. He’d hopped off of Daisy as they approached, and walked the rest of the way with her trailing behind. He was exhausted, but she’d been carrying him the entire time. It wasn’t much of a town, really—there was a general store and a few run down homes with some families mingling outside. There appeared to be a saloon near the end, of the strip, light and chatter coming from inside. Horses were tethered up all along—some more work horses than anything else.

 But it was a spot of civilization, and Loras welcomed the sight.

 Tying Daisy up outside the general store, he scratched behind her ear and pattered her nose, promising he’d get the saddle off of her soon before entering the general store that was mercifully still open. The man behind the counter couldn’t have been much older than Garlan, but he carried himself in a completely different manner. Round glasses were perched upon his nose, his shoulder’s slightly hunched as if he’d spent most of his life leaning against a counter, and his gaze was piercing, sizing up Loras. The fact that he looked ready and waiting for trouble made Loras uncomfortable, his gaze flicking outside to make sure Daisy was still there and hadn’t been taken.

 This was more of a thieves’ town than anything. He now understood the old man’s hesitation.

 “What can I do for you?” the man asked, not a smile to be found on his face. Loras did not even try to make the man more comfortable; if he couldn’t see he wasn’t a low-life outlaw just by looking at him then maybe he did not deserve the reassuring knowledge that Loras wasn’t going to rob him.

 “Can you tell where I am?” he asked slowly, inspecting the shop as he walked towards the counter, boots heavy on the wooden floorboards. Stopping at the counter, he rested his gloved hands on top and looked at the bottles and jars behind the shop-keep. There was an assortment of tobacco and candy alike, and some leather polishes to top it all off. Nothing Loras needed.

 “Last Chance,” the shop-keep replied in a low drawl. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

 “No,” he said. It was partly true—he’d never been around ‘Last Chance’ before, and he was beginning to realize why. It wasn’t the most hospitable of places. Then again, Loras was beginning to realize that most of the world wasn’t all that hospitable. “Do you have a map I could look at?”

 He nodded and reached under the counter, pulling out an old, tattered map. Placing it on the counter, he flipped it open and shoved it toward Loras, eyes trained on him the entire time. Loras thanked the man and slowly leaned forward to inspect, wary of getting too close. He found Last Chance on the map first, and glanced around the area, trying to pick out any other towns close by, or maybe some train station. But as he inspected, he realized that he had no idea what he was really looking for. Yes, towns and yes, train stations—but what would he do after he found another town? Where was he going? He couldn’t just keep wandering—money would be tight sooner rather than later, and although Loras was good with cattle and horses and was educated, he was beginning to suspect that his status as a well-to-do young man would get him into _more_ trouble— especially in a place like this.

 Loras suddenly realized with perfectly clarity that he was lost, confused and way in over his head.

 The map began to swim, none of the landmarks making any sense as he began to panic. _What have I done?_ Pulling away, Loras sent the man a shaky smile that wasn’t returned. He felt sick. “Thank you, sir.”

 He turned then, wanting to leave the store, the man’s gaze making him feel exposed and even more foolish. Keeping his breathing steady, he pushed open the swinging doors, but paused when he heard the man begin to speak. “There is a watering trough at the back of the store. You can clean your horse off there if you’d like.”

 “I… thank you,” he mumbled, taken aback by the kind gesture. An embarrassing flush spread across his cheek as he stepped back out on the porch, and he undid Daisy’s reins from the hitching post with shaking hands. Taking the man’s advice, Loras lead Daisy between the two buildings to the back. True to the shop-keepers word, there was a watering trough sitting there, stagnant but clean. _Daisy needs water and a brushing—she needs to be looked after. You can worry about yourself after, just keep Daisy happy. Take care of her._

 Keeping that in mind, Loras lead her to the trough and let her drink deeply. Pulling his gloves off, he dropped them down beside the basin and began checking Daisy, mind going blank as he felt her legs and lifted them, inspecting her feet for any rocks or debris that could harm her. He had to take her saddle off soon and brush her down, but he had no idea where he’d be stopping. The saloon was out of the question—it was loud and boisterous, and Loras knew, despite wishing it wasn’t true, that he was an easy target.  A weakling. A stupid, silly boy.

 This was too much.

 “Fuckin’ hell!” he cried out, Daisy lifting her head in shock as he kicked a bucket that lay nearby, sending dirty water everywhere. He did not stop there, however, and followed the bucket, kicking it again, this time further out into the field. “Stupid fucking fuck fuck—God damn it all!” Pulling his hat off, he slammed it down into the dirt, breathing short and swift, jaw clenched tight. Only when his hat was on the ground and the blood rushing through his system quieted down, did Loras swallow to sooth his sore throat from the yelling. Attention fixed on the hat, his put his hands on his hips and ground his teeth together. The release had helped, but the rush it gave wouldn’t last long. He was still lost, he was still in over his head, and he was still _tired_.

 Bending down, he picked up his hat and dusted it off, turning around to return to Daisy. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he mumbled, shaking his head, shoving his hat back on. Lifting his gaze from the ground, he paused when he noticed another man leaning against a wall in the shadows behind another shop. He was just a shape, black and black and more black on his attire, save for the gold belt buckle with antlers catching the light from the moon. He didn’t say anything, and Loras wouldn’t even tell if his attention was on him or not. It probably was—it wasn’t like he was being subtle about his anger.

 Ignoring him, Loras returned to Daisy who was standing over the trough, head dropping as exhaustion finally claimed her. Running his hand along the white stripe along her nose, he brushed her hair away, calming down. He still had no idea where he’d go, but the anger was gone for now, instead replaced by mild indifference. He’d figure something out in the morning. For now he’d lead Daisy out a distance from Last Chance and bunk down under the sky. He’d take her saddle off and let her rest. He’d keep watch.

 Grabbing her reins, he began to lead her away, both their heads drooping and feet dragging.

 “You forgot your gloves.”

 Freezing, Loras turned around slowly, hands gripping the leather straps tightly. The man in the shadows didn’t move for a time, and Loras wondered if he was the one who spoke, but then he pushed himself off from the side of the building and heading for the gloves. Loras stayed where he was as he bent over to pick them up, dusting them off with a bit of tenderness. He has a smoke in his mouth, the little ember at the end glowing bright in the darkness, but doing little to light his face that was still framed by shadows.

 “These are a nice pair of gloves, too. You wouldn’t want to lose them.” His voice was soft, a surprise to Loras. And there was no southern drawl to it—crisp and clean. He was from the North. He reached out for them when they were passed over, and just as his hands closed around the gloves, the man turned slightly, his face cast in the light of the moon, completely bare to Loras.

 He had a smile like a saint, but the twinkle in his eye was that of the devil.


	3. Ricochet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in the below piece of fiction. They belong to GRRM
> 
> Warning: None

 Staring up at the clear night sky, all Loras could think about was the man with the golden belt buckle.

 He hadn’t been able to say much to the stranger, only a mumbled ‘thank you, sir’ before the man was chuckling and saying he wasn’t used to be calling sir. After that they parted ways, Loras leaving Last Chance to camp out near a grove of trees, while the stranger sauntered down between the buildings, whistling a tune Loras had never heard before.

 He tried to forget about the man as he brushed Daisy off, the saddle having made an impression in her golden fur, but there was something about him that intrigued Loras. Despite the friendly smile, something lurked below. He’d thought it was the devil for a moment, but the menacing persona melted away as soon as he heard him chuckle. It was warm and comforting; not a sound a man with malicious intent could ever make.

 And that laugh stayed with him as he set up is small camp and lay down to stare up at the sky, Daisy already asleep beside him, tail swishing occasionally. There was _something_ about him. He has a strong face—a long, straight nose and a sharp jawline, full lips that wore a smile well, and brilliant blue eyes that locked on to Loras. _He’s handsome_ , Loras thought, only to blush in the darkness and roll over on to his side, coat wrapped around him, his head rested on a rolled up pack.

 There was no use thinking about the man. He was gone, wandering back into a world Loras was only just experiencing. He’d shown Loras a moment of kindness when he needed it, and that was all he could ask for. He’d cherish that memory—look back on it when he’d begin to feel frustrated again. Remember that kindness can appear in any form and in the most unlikely of places.

XX

  _Just keep thinking about the gloves…_

“Could you please just stop for a second? I’m not gonna hurt you! Just stop and talk—I need your help!”

 Gritting his teeth, Loras took a deep breath and slowed Daisy down. He didn’t fully stop, however. “Why do you need my help?”

 “I’d tell you if you’d stop!”

 “I don’t know if you’re in any position to tell me to do something if you’re looking for my help.”

 There was a growl, followed by the crunch of rocks under boots as they came nearer. A flash of black and gold was seen out of the corner of his eye, and Loras lifted his chin slightly as the stranger caught up and began walking beside Daisy.

 As soon as the sun has risen Loras was on the move again, walking through Last Chance before continuing on his way towards a town that has a railroad sign next to it on the map. But just as he was leaving the small strip that constituted as a ‘rest stop’, he heard a familiar voice followed by that saintly smile he’d dreamed about all night. It turned out the man who had been so thoughtful and courteous last night hadn’t done it completely out of the goodness of his heart. As soon as he said hello he began to ask for a favour, desperation in his voice as he looked up at Loras hopefully.

 Loras wasn’t completely naïve to think that going off with a man dressed like he was ready for a shoot-out at any moment was a good idea. He tried to tell the man to go away—that he wasn’t able to help him, even though he knew not what he needed help _with_ —but the man was having none of it.

 He was a persistent bugger. Like a horsefly.

 “You know you’re gonna need my help, too,” the man said, causing Loras to quirk a brow. Turning his head slightly, he pulled his gaze away from the road and looked down at the handsome face peering up at him, suddenly serious for a change.

 “Why? I’ve got my gloves on my hands right now—finding my gloves seems to be the extent of your helpfulness.”

 The man snorted but did not seem deterred by Loras’ prickly answer. “If you keep going the way you’re going, you and your horse are as good as dead. Mother Nature is not lenient on the inexperienced.”

 “What do you mean?” he asked slowly.

 The man pointed out across the way, towards the open expanse of the prairies. “Do you know why they call this town ‘Last Chance’?”

 Loras pursed his lips. “No.”

 “It’s because as soon as you get a few miles out there, everything suddenly becomes desert, and you’ve got nowhere to go but either back here, or all the way through that desert to the town I assume you’re headed to. And you can make it fine—if you know where the wells and the shelters are along the way. If you don’t, you’re as good as buried. You’re vulture food along with your pretty little horse here.”

 Loras stopped Daisy then. Desert… how come he hadn’t thought of that? Of course the land wouldn’t stay fertile for forever—if you could even call where he was fertile. Loras had been naive to think that he’d have access to water and grass for Daisy his entire trip. This was Texas, after all. Squeezing his hands around the reins, he stared out across the way, watching the heat waves ripple across the path.

 He did need help. Biting his bottom lip, he slowly turned to the man. “What do you propose?”  The man grinned again and patted Daisy’s neck as he stepped close. Loras reached for his gun then, pulling out of its holder and pointing it directly at the stranger’s head. “Step back—I don’t know you.”

 The man lifted his hand from Daisy’s and stepped back a few paces, hands still raised, that annoying little smile still on his lips. Loras was serious—he’d shoot him if he got too close to Daisy. “Woah now, no need to do that. I’m not going to hurt you now if I didn’t when we were in a dark alleyway together.”

 The logic made Loras bristle, angry that he had been letting his guard down everywhere. He took his frustrations out on the man. “Tell me what you need help with before I—“

 “Shoot me? Come on, kid—you and I both know you’re not going to do that.”

 It was true. Loras had never killed a man before, and he didn’t plan on doing it now. But he loathed that the man had called his bluff; he’d get no respect from him. Still…

Sighing, he shoved his revolver back into its holder on his hip. The man’s arms dropped and he approached Loras again, this time slower. “Right, so, you need help getting through the desert unscathed, right?”

 Loras nodded.

 “And, well, no offence, but you also stick out like a sore thumb. You’re as green as green can be—which means you’re an easy target. Ride with me and you’ll be safe. I’ll even by some of the supplies we will need—free of charge. I just really need your help.”

 “You keep saying you need my help, but you haven’t told me with what.”

 The stranger let out a puff of air, a sheepish smile on his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck. It was oddly out of sorts on a man who had probably seen his face on a few Wanted posters over his lifetime.  “I need help finding my horse.”

 Loras paused. Find his… horse? He suddenly realized that the man was not on a horse—in fact, he’d been walking beside Loras for the past fifteen minutes with no horse in sight. “How did… what?”

 “Eloquent and quick to pull a gun—I like that,” the man teased, and Loras was about to protest or ride off or do something to show his tone was not appreciated, but the stranger was continuing as if he hadn’t just insulted him. “My horse has a tendency to wander off—a few people like to… I guess play some pranks on me and untether my horse, and Ricochet is probably one of the stupidest god damn animals on the planet. I’m pretty sure I know where he went, but I need help getting there.”

 “So why do you need my help?” he asked, still wary.

 “Well, you have a horse, clearly, so I thought I’d just ride behind you and we’d go to where Ricochet probably headed. You let me borrow the back of your saddle and in return I’ll buy you food and supplies, keep you protected, and get you through the wasteland up ahead. You’re getting a real deal out of this, kid.”

 He was getting a great deal, which concerned Loras. All he had to do was let the man ride behind him? He could very well rob him or kill him in that position, but something about the man made Loras believe he was genuine about the proposal—no underhanded tricks at play. Or perhaps Loras was just easily fooled by a large smile and a handsome face.

  _There was that word handsome again…_

 “Fine, it’s a deal,” Loras decided, sticking his hand down for the man to shake. Their palms connected, and Loras squeezed his hand in a firm handshake, the same force returned _. Nothing ventured, nothing gained,_ he thought. _Besides, if I die because of this, at least I know Daisy’ll kick him off before she lets him steal her._

“Perfect.” Grinning brightly, the man let go and shoved his hat down slightly. “So what’s your name?”

 Loras paused a moment before answering. “Thomas.”

 “Liar.”

 “H-How do you know that?” This man already had a knack at making Loras annoyed. Calling him a liar, teasing him, letting him know just how in over his head he was—all things Loras did not do well with.

 “You hesitated—people don’t usually hesitate before they say their name. Never mind, though, I’ll just call you—“ he paused for a second, eyes flicking down to look at Loras’ saddle then back up to lock with his, a slow grin on his face. “Little Rose. I’ll call you Little Rose. I’m Renly, by the way. And yeah, that is my real name--” Loras was about to speak, but Renly just kept nattering on, getting up on Daisy with his help. “—You can tell me your name when you’re ready to—when you trust me better. We’ve got about a week of traveling together before we reach the town you want to go to—I’m assuming you want to go to Dutch Creek, right? Anyways, it’ll take a while to get there, so we best start getting along. If you turn around and head back the way you came—“

XX

 “—So that’s why you need to keep moving across the river otherwise I swear to god that water will creep up your leg and strangle your balls.”

 Loras had no idea what was going on. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d lost the ability to comprehend as soon as he’d left the ranch. First he ran away from home with no idea where he was going or what he was going to do, then he figured he would just wander aimlessly through an upcoming desert that was apparently very vast and filled with a bunch of cacti and rattlesnakes, and then he thought it would be a good idea to allow a complete stranger sit on the back of his saddle while he prattled on about who knew what.

 Although Renly was making a strong effort to make it so they weren’t strangers, what with him talking about balls and the first time he’d ever been in a bar fight. Apparently he’d caused it, but he wouldn’t tell Loras what he did to offend. All Loras knew was that it made Renly smile and giggle like a small, innocent child.

 “Are you listening?” Renly asked, sticking his head forward to rest on Loras’ shoulder. His breath smelled of peppermint and tobacco.

 “No.”

 “That’s fine—I wouldn’t listen to me, either.”

 That made Loras smile. In fact, a lot of what Renly had been saying made him smile, despite his utter confusion. When Loras first saw Renly behind the shop in the dead of night, he had a menacing quality to him that only lasted so long as he didn’t laugh. But in the daylight, under the warm rays of the sun, the laughter was flowing freely, heartfelt and joyous. He never held it back, and Loras found drawn into it whenever it would bubble forth. It was calming—made him feel a little less homesick. But it was still strange to see it come from Renly. He gave off an appearance that told Loras he’d been traveling the roads of America for a while, doing what needed to be done to get by.

 He wore all black—black boots and black chaps, black jeans and a black shirt, and a sharp black hat that helped frame his strong angled face. But his gold belt buckle with the antlers on it shone under the sun, along with all of the ammo around his waist and across his chest, making him glitter. And tied around his neck was a bright yellow bandana—shocking in contrast against everything else on him. He appeared menacing… dangerous… and handsome.

 He shifted in his saddle slightly, making Renly wiggle with him. _Stop thinking about that—he’s a man and you’re a man and you don’t call other men handsome._

“So where are we going?” Loras finally asked. They’d been riding for some time in the exact opposite direction of where Loras had wanted to go, and so far there was no sign of the infamous Ricochet. Renly had given a vague description _(“Looks like a horse. Black. Got some white on its butt. Has a tendency to just nap whenever it feels like it”_ ), but told Loras that they’d probably find him in this small valley nearby.

 “Just keep going straight until we get to a fork in the road, then go left and it’ll lead down into the valley.”

 “Why does he go down there?”

 “He doesn’t go down _that_ valley all the time in particular—he goes down into valleys in general. He just likes them and has this bizarre ability to find them. I talked to some locals and they told me this was the nearest valley, so I’m trying my luck!”

_That is a strange habit for a horse to have…_

 There was finally silence, the rustle of the grass in the wind and the clip-clop of Daisy’s hooves on the packed road the only sounds around. Occasionally the reins would jingle, but it was relatively peaceful. Renly was staying on the back well enough, hands braced on his own thighs or going back to grab the back of the saddle for a bit. He kept his hands off of Loras, but Loras kept his own hand close to his gun. It wasn’t like he was able to do anything with it should Renly decide to stab him or shoot him, but it felt good—reassuring, even. While he’d only ever shot gophers and tin cans with the gun, it was still a physical piece of home and a reminder of simpler times. Times before he was destine to be married and ran off in the dead of night.

 Speaking of… “I can’t go too far in this direction,” Loras said. “I’m sort of… trying to get away quickly from… something.”

 “Mm, something. Well don’t worry, there is the cross roads right ahead. Hang a left and continue—you can already see the road twisting downward.” Renly was leaning forward again, neck craned over Loras’ shoulder, a grin on his face.

  He didn’t ask what that ‘something’ was, and Loras was grateful for it. Curious perhaps, as to why he did not ask, but grateful all the same. Besides, it seemed like Renly had a few things he was running away from, too. Most men didn’t become wanderers by choice.

 As they approached the slope, the form of something appeared on the road. Black and indistinguishable, it swayed from side to side along the heat-wave cover trailed. Loras couldn’t see what it was, but there was shifting behind him, followed by the sound of metal against metal and a long brass tube seen out of the corner of his eye. Loras immediately swung his body to the side, shifting on the saddle so he could look over his shoulder.

 “Is that a telescope?” Loras asked, watching the brass object move up and down with Daisy’s gait. Loras had never seen one in real life, but he’d seen them in drawings of old pirate books he owned as a child. He tried making one as a prop to play with when he played pirates and bandits with Margaery and the neighbor kids, but it broke due to the fact that it was made out of paper. To see a real one in person was something special for him…

 Renly didn’t answer for a moment, one eye squeezed, the corner of his lip lifting with the raise of his eyebrow. Loras just stared at the telescope, the light glinting off of the end. “Yup,” he finally said, closing the telescope and slipping it back into his jacket. “Got if from an acquaintance of mine a few years ago in a poker game—he’s from a sea-faring family. Anyways, that is definitely Ricochet.”

 Loras wanted to ask if he could see the telescope, but when Renly reminded him of their mission he nodded and kicked Daisy into a trot, closing the distance between the two mounts. It didn’t take long to catch up—Ricochet was moving at his own pace, slow and steady and completely unperturbed by the approaching horse. When they drew close enough so that Loras could properly see the animal Renly jumped off of Daisy without warning, skidding in the dirt, almost falling over before catching himself at the last minute. Hurrying towards Ricochet, he got the beast to stop and grabbed hold of his reigns, hopping up on to him quick as he pleased.

 “Stupid fucking animal,” he grumbled as he turned him around and walked Ricochet back to where Loras and Daisy had stopped. “Last time I ever accept a horse for free.”

 “Where did you get him?” Loras asked, eying the horse. It wasn’t… anything he’d seen before. It had the colouring of an Appaloosa, but a strong Roman nose like a mustang or even a draft horse. And it was stocky—built for rough weather and uneven ground. Its gate was strange, too. Everything about it was strange.

 “Some old women who I used to know—she didn’t want him and gave him to me if I did a few chores for her. I figured a horse was a horse, but now I’m not so sure…” Renly peered down at the top of Ricochet’s head for a second, and then grinned back up at Loras. “No matter—he’s here now, and we can head back to Last Chance and get some supplies before I fulfill my end of the deal. Oh, and he’s a Gelding—no chance of him trying to mount your pretty little mare.”

 “Some geldings still try,” Loras mumbled as he turned around.

 “Yeah, well Ricochet is too lazy to even attempt it,” he said, sliding a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it and taking a long drag as they sat side by side on their mounts.

 Silence took over once more, Loras’ gaze flicking over to Renly every so often—for what reason, he wasn’t sure. _To keep an eye on him; make sure he doesn’t try anything_ , he told himself. “Can I see your telescope?” he asked after a time, still intrigued by the invention and how it made its way into Texas.

 Renly nodded and pulled it out, but when Loras tried to take it, Renly’s grip remained firm. “You gonna tell me a bit about yourself first?”

 “No.” He said it so quickly that Renly didn’t question it. But instead of getting angry or upset, he just shrugged and let it go.

 “I respect your right to your privacy, and while I think there is something going on that I should be informed on—oh, say, people coming after you or looking for you—I won’t bother you about it. But remember this—“ Pulling the cigarette out of his mouth, he blew the smoke out slowly, a smirk on his lips as he turned to look at Loras “—we’re partners now, Little Rose. And you’ve _got_ to trust your partner.”


	4. Rattlesnakes and Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in the below piece of fiction; they belong to George RR Martin
> 
> Warnings: None
> 
> Authors Note: Short chapter this time! Some are shorter than others-- sorry about that.

  The desert stretched out before them; old land cracked and marred by time. The trail was thin and twisting, the only way to get through, everything else too pitted and rough for the feet of man and beast alike.

 It was harsh.

 Uninviting…

 A wasteland that Loras had only ever seen in his nightmares.

 “Would you look at that bloom on that cactus?”

 Tearing his gaze away from the trail before them, Loras eyed Renly who was busy pointing at a cactus off in the distance. “What?”

 “That cactus!” He turned to Loras, grinning brightly. “Look at it! It’s got a gorgeous flower on it! Just loo—Wait, you were having a moment, weren’t you?”

 Loras just shifted around on his saddle, cheeks pink not entirely from the heat. “I just… haven’t seen desert like this before,” he admitted. He hated to divulge it, of course, but Renly had already figured out that Loras was way in over his head and wasn’t the most well-traveled person around. “I mean, I’ve seen desert, but the ones I saw I never planned on going through.”

 Renly nodded. “There isn’t any shame in being intimidated by this—you should have seen me when I first saw this. I’m from up north—trees and mountains and moose the size of my brother all around me. So cacti and rattlesnakes were a change. But you get used to it—just like everything else in life.”

 “You had a brother?”

 “Mm, yeah.” It was Renly’s turn to shut down. It was just for a moment—a flicker in his eyes and the slight downturn of his lips, before he was once again grinning. “But I’m not telling you anything more until you give me your name. Anyways, take your time; enjoy the scenery behind you if you want, because you’re not seeing it again for a long while.”

 Taking a deep breath, Loras continued to stare out before him. This was it—there was no turning back now. As soon as they rode their horses into the heart of the desert, Loras was well and truly gone from his past life; everything left behind in order to chase his own dreams… whatever they were. Loras was ready.

_Don’t look back…_

 “Let’s go.”

XX

 As soon as the sun had set they set up camp a short distance from the path where cacti and desert brush did not reside. Loras had found the first few steps into the desert intimidating, a deep sense of regret sitting in his gut, curling around and around, trying to work its way up to make him sick. It almost worked, too—the guilt and the realization of what he was doing making him want to look back despite knowing he shouldn’t.

 But then Renly was pointing out a hawk in the sky, and Loras found he was able to breathe again.

  They didn’t travel long, the late start of having to find Ricochet and then buy supplies slowing them down, but Loras was grateful when Renly told them they could rest. The environment they were in was rough and troubling on the body; the constant heat from the sun and the eerie stillness around them creating tension in his shoulders and neck. Renly said it was a bit of heat-stroke and told him to drink more water than he normally would. He asked about their water ration, and Renly just told him not to worry.

 Loras also noticed that Renly wasn’t drinking anything.

 The chill of the desert set in just as soon as Loras started a small fire, years of spending time out with the cattle doing him some good as he collected what they’d need and struck a spark in his first try.

 “So where did you learn your outdoor skills?” Renly asked, sitting across from Loras, the light of the flames playing off of his face.

 “I worked with cattle—at a ranch,” he said, telling the truth for once.

 “Your family’s ranch?”

 Loras tensed. _How does he know?_ He didn’t say anything, eyes trained on an ember that rested just outside the circle of rocks.

 “Look, Little Rose—you’re a rich kid. Your clothes, your horse, your tack—it all shows your privilege. You either worked for someone who was mighty generous, or you worked on your family’s ranch.” He looked up to see Renly was staring at him, an amused smirk on his lips.

 Rolling his eyes, Loras shifted slightly, hooking his arms around his knees as he curled around himself. “Yeah, I worked for my Pa…”

 “Why’d you run away from home?”

 Renly was too good. Keeping their eyes locked, Loras stayed still, trying to read Renly. How did he know this? Was he really that obvious? _Renly must know who I am—he must be a… a bounty hunter or something._

 But then why was he leading him further away from his family, rather than back?

  “I didn’t…” was his lame answer.

Shaking his head, Renly chuckled softly. He shifted, imitated Loras’ position, arms wrapped around his knees, one hand locked around his wrist, chin resting on the tops of his knees. “You really need to learn to lie or learn to tell the truth, because right now you’re shit at both. You’re from a well to do family; you didn’t just decide to leave for no reason. Most men don’t choose to become wanderers by choice. Something happened to make you leave.”

 Loras paused, attention once again returning to the now dead ember on the dirt, faintly glowing in the center, but mostly just grey and black and lifeless _. I ran away from my duty—I got scared and panicked. I didn’t want to marry and I didn’t want to commit. I wanted adventure and to live my own life. I wanted to meet someone and fall in love with them, not be forced to love. I wanted to see the world._ “It’s nothing,” he mumbled.

 Renly hummed, followed by a loud sigh. “Well if I were you,” he began, “I’d take a look at my choices. I’m not one to judge or anything, but this is a tough life you’ve chosen. There are men out there who will hurt you, Little Rose. Do terrible things to you…”

 “Like kill me?”

 “There are worse things in life than death… Nah, they’d destroy your very sense of being if they could. There are men wandering around who are robbers and thieves, liars and cheats. Murderers, rapists, torturers and sexual vagrants—men from all walks of hell come up to wander the same road you’re going down.”

 A chill set in despite the fire before Loras. He tried not to shiver or shake—to show his fear. Instead he stared right across at Renly, keeping their eyes locked. “So what are you, then?” he asked, voice quiet.

 Renly grinned, then—the smile of a wolf. Once again, the twinkle in his eye was back, and Loras was reminded of the man he’d met in the alleyway. “I’m just Renly. Sometimes I’m a liar, sometimes I’m a robber, and sometimes I’m a storyteller who likes to scare the piss out of rich little rosebuds.” He laughed then, and washed away the fear in Loras. No devil could laugh like that.

 “You’re rotten,” he mumbled, letting out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding.

 “Just you wait until I start my ghost stories!” Renly said, still giggling to himself. “In all seriousness, though—you watch yourself. There are men out there like that, but then again, there were probably men like that in your Church congregation every Sunday.”

 Loras was about to protest, but then remembered the purple bruise on one of the Frey girls cheeks as she stood next to her husband. A husband who was caught disrespecting one of his female servants a few weeks before… Suddenly, Loras felt a little more comfortable sitting out in the middle of the desert with a man who wore his gun against his hip, intentions clear as day, rather than hiding his pistol under false pretenses and a good name.

 “You should get some sleep—I’ll keep first watch. I don’t expect any trouble, but some late-night traveler might be coming ‘round, wanting to steal a few personal effects,” Renly said, stretching out on the ground, resting his boots against the rocks that ran around the fire. Loras nodded, realizing he was exhausted all of a sudden.

 He probably shouldn’t have fallen asleep and allowed a man he barely knew to guard over him, but he’d already put his life in Renly’s hands as soon as they entered the wasteland. A foolish, trusting move, but one Loras had committed too already. There was no use in losing sleep over it.

 Heading to his bedroll, he took his hat off and lay down, curling around himself as his personal effects dug into him from all angles. He wasn’t used to sleeping in his riding clothes, but then again, he wasn’t used to any of this. He’d get there in time.

 Falling asleep, the last thing Loras remembered was the every present smile on his partner’s face was gone, shadows on his features as he stared at the fire with a melancholy air around him.

 Or perhaps it was just a waking dream.

XX

 Loras was woken with the sun. Renly hadn’t bothered to wake him when it was his turn to watch the camp, and he was about to protest as Renly sauntered back to the camp after taking a piss against a cactus, but was quickly silenced when Renly began prattling on like he always did.

 “I didn’t want to wake you because you looked like a corpse to be perfectly honest,” he explained, rolling up his bedroll. “Dead to the world—I’m guessing you haven’t been sleeping well?”

 Loras shook his head, cleaning his own side of the camp slowly. “That was mighty kind of you to let me rest,” he said. “I’ll take watch tonight, though. I feel refreshed.”

 He did feel refreshed, and as soon as they were back on their horses and once again moving down the dusty trail, he felt as if the boulder he’d been carrying on his shoulders were getting a little smaller. He had a sleepless dream, a sense of peace blanketing his thoughts, a change from the anxious, restless nights he’d had since the engagement had been called…

 Oh God… the engagement.

 “What day is it today?” Loras asked, voice rough from disuse, the two of them silent for well over an hour.

 Renly shrugged one shoulder and grunted.

 It must have been June 20th—he left late on the 17th so today must be the 20th…

 “I was to be married tomorrow,” he mumbled, more to himself than anything else. Renly heard it, however, and perked up, attention now fully on him.

 “ _You?_ You were supposed to be married?”

 Loras ignored the surprise in Renly’s voice and simply nodded. He hadn’t planned on letting that piece of information slip, but now that it was out he thought he’d best elaborate. “Yeah, I was to be married for the good of the family; you know, to a wealthy girl. She was sweet and kind and anyone would have been happy to have married her…” Mentioning Sansa brought back the guilt. She must have been devastated when word reached of him leaving. He wished he could have told her it wasn’t her fault—that this would have happened regardless. But he didn’t. He didn’t even leave a note. He just took off in the middle of the night without hesitation.

 “Anyone would have been happy but you?”

 Loras nodded and considered Renly. He wasn’t smiling for a change, the look of constant amusement and mischief on his features gone. Instead he looked curious, waiting for Loras to continue. Turning away, he stared out along the trail, Daisy’s ears flicking every so often—backward and forward, backward and forward. He hadn’t told anyone this—not really. He hadn’t explained his real fears and concerns without masking it behind something else. Renly was still a stranger to him, and for some reason that made it a little easier to open up. Renly could judge all he wanted, for all Loras cared…

 Except he _did_ care, which was an entirely strange thought. He didn’t know Renly… well, he didn’t know him well enough to care what his opinions were of him. In fact, Loras had never really wished to impress anyone but himself, the views and opinions around him meaning little if he knew the truth. At least, that was what he told himself. His family would most likely argue that point, bringing up his flaws and his continual strive to be the best. But he _was_ the best; there was no striving for that. He attained his credibility through his own skill and practice. He never had to _prove_ himself…

 But now he did. Now he was in a world where his sharp-shooting skills were overshadowed by his naivety and the fact that he hadn’t done anything to show that he was anything but a rich boy playing at being a wanderer. Loras actually had to prove everything for once in his lifetime.

 “I just… didn’t want to get married,” he began, swallowing the spit that had collected in his mouth—sour and filled with blame. “I just… I didn’t love her. They kept telling me that it would come, but I kept sitting and waiting for that excitement. I just looked at her and I kept trying to see more than her pretty smile and her pretty personality. But she was never anything more than pretty—never anything with any substance. And it wasn’t her fault at all; it was me, you know? It was all me… I just… I was scared and I panicked and I fled. Ran as fast as I could from my home without thinking or planning. I just left because I was… I was… a coward…”

 There was silence after that—dead silence. Even the crunch of the rocks and dirt under their horses’ hooves could not penetrate the oppressive weight that seemed to seize hold. It didn’t last long, but it seemed to last an eternity. Loras hated that moment—that second between a confession and a judgement. It felt like nothing else to Loras.

 Finally, Renly spoke.  “I know what you mean,” he mumbled, and Loras finally turned to see him smiling—small and reassuring and everything he needed in that moment. “I know what you mean.”

 


	5. Cacti Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in the below piece of fiction. GRRM does. 
> 
> Warning: Gun violence

The day of Loras’ wedding was spent shooting flowers of off cacti.

 The night before, Loras took his turn watching over their camp, staring at the small little fire that burned away the cold, going over the fact that he was supposed to be standing at the end of an aisle with a pretty girl with a pretty smile coming down to meet him. A pretty girl that didn’t deserve the emptiness he’d given her as a wedding present. He knew he’d be guilty about it for a while, but it would fade away eventually. For now he’d drink the bitter draught he’d made for himself and hope that the taste went away with time.

 In the morning, he decided he needed something to distract himself—something to keep his mind off of the long road ahead, the knowledge that he had no idea where he was going or what he was doing, and the fact that he was supposed to be married to a girl who was no doubt crying instead of laughing on her wedding day.

 He wanted to shoot something.

 Loras had been aggressive growing up, the need to deal with his emotions always spent in a physical manner. One time, when he was younger, he’d hit a boy. And hit him again. And then again and again until the kid’s nose was broken and he was crying and lying on the ground in a pool of blood and tears. It wasn’t until Loras had been dragged away that he realized what he’d done, his own tears staining his cheeks while blood beaded up on his red knuckles.

 He didn’t even remember why he’d struck the boy. All he remembered was his mother yelling at him, anger and _fear_ in her voice as she told him never to do that again.

 So he didn’t. But the fury was still there, bubbling away, waiting to be released.

 And it was around that time that Loras had received his first gun. It was a little rifle with a soft kick that wouldn’t hurt his skinny shoulders, and rested in his hands like it was always supposed to be there. As soon as he got it he begged his Pa to show him how to shoot it, excited and eager to learn.

 The first time he’d shot it he’d almost fallen backward from the kick. But it only fueled him to get better, never wanting to be shamed in front of anyone for being too small or too weak to even fire a gun. So he practiced and used his inner anger to give him that boost he needed to shoot with deadly accuracy. The fighting stopped, and instead Loras became one of the best marksmen at the ranch, famed in the community for his skill.

 It was his release and his joy.

 “I want to shoot something,” he declared when the sun had risen high enough in the sky to slow the horses to a water saving amble.

 Renly stopped talking about sand in his boots at that moment, and broke out into a huge grin.

XX

 “So how long have you been shooting for?” Renly asked as they checked their pistols over, making sure nothing was caught in the inner workings of their guns. The desert was a dusty, sandy place, perfect for clogging up gun chambers.

 “As long as I can remember,” he mumbled, eying Renly for a second as he spun the chamber around before flicking his wrist, snapping it into place. _Renly is flashy, but can he aim worth shit?_ “I learned with a rifle, first. Then moved on to revolvers, but they’ve never been too popular where I’m from. We needed rifles to hunt and protect the cattle from predators. Revolvers were more for flash, but I like them anyways.”

 “Just because a rifle is practical doesn’t mean it’s better,” Renly said. “Right, let’s see your shot, Little Rose.”

 Nodding, Loras bounced the familiar weight in his hand, enjoying the feel of it. It was reassuring and stable—a constant in his life, just when he needed it the most. They were standing a fair distance from the path, their horses behind them, far enough away that they wouldn’t spook. Staring out across from him, Loras eyed the colourful blooms that dotted the tops of the cacti. Renly said they were in season. Loras wanted to tell him that much was obvious, but decided against it. No need to upset a man holding a gun.

 “Which one did you want me to shoot?” he asked, turning to Renly, legs spread apart in a solid stance.

 “Uh… the furthest one—unless that’s too far for you?” Renly grinned, and Loras returned it. _A challenge, is it?_

 Rolling his shoulders back, Loras nodded and tipped his hat to Renly before turning his attention to the cactus furthest away from them. Loras’ revolvers were beautiful. Shining sliver that glittered in the sun, rose detailing on the chamber and the barrel, with pearl coloured handles finishing them off. Renly’s were black with brown handles—not so flashy, but perhaps more practical given the world he was in. Loras’ were beautiful, but anyone could spot how expensive they were, and he knew he’d have to be careful with them.

 Holding the gun out in front of him, he used only one hand, deciding he’d show off a bit. Keeping his eye trained on the cactus ahead, he stared at the orange and red bloom with a certain amount of intensity, everything else fading away as he centered and focused himself. Holding the gun and staring out across the way, Loras found a bit of peace finally. After days of being unsure and out of his element, to do this—to just shoot at targets without much care in the world—was exactly what he needed. Lifting his thumb, he pulled the hammer and let out a slow breath as his finger squeezed the trigger.

 There was a loud bang and a bit of smoke, followed almost immediately by a shower of red and orange petals down the way.

 “Jesus Christ!” Renly hollered, spooking the horses more than the gunshot had.

 Beaming, Loras lowered his revolver, sliding it back into its holster with smug satisfaction, an eyebrow raised as he watched Renly continue to be impressed, eyes wide and mouth slack. “Did you doubt me?”

 “Well yeah! You’re some well to do rich kid with some weird past who _said_ he was good. I didn’t actually think you would be! Hell, Little Rose, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone shoot that well! Do it again—I want to make sure that wasn’t a fluke.” Renly was laughing, pausing every so often to give Loras a shocked look, shaking his head before laughing once more. “Goddamn.”

 Chuckling, Loras agreed to do it again, wanting to prove to Renly it wasn’t a fluke. Sure, he’d been a bit lucky to get the bloom at that distance, but luck factored into everything, as did skill and determination. Loras didn’t get this good _just_ because of luck. Resuming his original position, he aimed and fired a few times, hitting a different target each time until the chamber ran empty.

 When the smoke and settled and the rush in his system had subsided, Loras looked at the damage he’d caused. He’d hit two other blooms, and took a few chunks out of the other cacti, close to the blooms but not close enough. Loras was a bit peeved about that, but Renly didn’t seem to notice, instead hollering about how that was some of the best shooting he’d ever seen.

_Well of course it is,_ Loras thought as he shoved his gun back in its holster. He couldn’t wipe the smug grin from his face. “I’m not a braggart when I know I can’t defend the claim,” he said, hooking his fingers under his belt. “That’s years of practicing for hours with tin cans and gophers.”

 “I don’t know,” Renly said, pursing his lips. “I’ve heard of men who sold their souls to the devil to get themselves a talent like that.”

 “I didn’t sell my soul to the devil—I swear to you that’s all practice!”

 Renly shook his head. “Damn, then. I was hoping you’d be able to get me into contact with the man down below—I sure could use some of that.”

 Renly didn’t really need it. He wasn’t as good as Loras, but as Loras watched him aim and fire, he realized that he’d been trained to shoot to kill or maim—not for flash or bravado. He seemed to aim at the cacti as if they were humans, firing down below like he was taking out a leg, wounding or killing the plant with a few more shots. Loras watched with rapt fascination, eyes trained more on Renly than where the bullets were headed.

 His stance was strong and assured, legs parted and arm stretched out, holding true. His eyes were narrowed, and the ever present smile on his lips turned into a pulled back, almost feral smirk. He looked dangerous and exciting. Loras felt his heart skip a beat when Renly twirled the empty revolved and shoved it back into its holster quick as you please, only to pull out the second one and resume his shooting. He was controlled and careful, but there was a bit of flair to every movement. He made killing a show—a spectacle to be watched and admired.

 Loras wondered what it would be like to see Renly kill another man. Would he look the same way? So calm and relaxed about it? Or would there be any hint of the man who sat across from him under the starlight sky, who seemed haunted by what he’d done throughout his life? Eyes dead and lips pulled tight, the flash and boldness gone as realities and guilt took hold.

_I don’t know if I want to see him kill a man_ , he thought while Renly put the second revolver away and turned to Loras, winking at him. _I don’t know if I want the fantasy to go away if that means seeing Renly for what he really is._

XX

 The fourth day in the desert, Loras shot a rabbit.

 “It’s a good sign—we’re getting closer to proper land,” Renly said, his back to Loras as he gutted and skinned the animal. Loras noticed with no small amusement that Renly refused to look at him while he was cleaning the animal.

 “Mm, yeah… can you help me for a second?” he asked, a smile playing at his lips as Renly grunted.

 “Uh… with what?”

 “I just need you to turn around—I have to show you.”

 “Well, you know, I just… I mean… I really like the view I have right now. Of your horses rump. So, you know… maybe another time.”

 Snorting, Loras sat back, hands dangling off his knees, covered in blood and fur from the messy work that had to be done. Leaning back, he caught Renly’s eye, and smiled up at him. “You’re afraid of blood.”

 Renly huffed, snorted, rubbed his nose, clenched his jaw, and looked away before attempting to lie. “No, I’m not.”

 “Then how come you won’t look at the rabbit?”

 “Because I just don’t want to—Damn it, Little Rose, it’s not a big deal! I think you need to get yourself checked because you’re the one telling me to look at all those guts and its heart and… and its blood.”

 Loras had never heard of an outlaw afraid of blood and guts. “Haven’t you killed men before? Saw blood then, didn’t you?”

 “’S different…” Renly mumbled, shifting slightly. His gaze flicked down to Loras, before he stared straight ahead once more. “When you’re in a fight, you sort of… forget about everything, you know? You just don’t think about how you’re shooting at other people and killing them. Don’t think about the blood on your cheek or the screams of men as they try and hobble away, left behind by their gang… you just don’t _think_.”

 Loras watched Renly as he explained, voice tighter than usual—more guarded. He felt bad, now.

 “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,” he said, once again peering down at Loras. “You won’t even tell me your name.”

 He was right. Renly had been telling Loras everything, and all Loras had given him was the reason he’d run away from home. Turning his attention back to the rabbit, he went back to work, finishing up. Just when Renly was about to leave, however, Loras spoke.

 “I learned how to skin an animal and get the meat from it from my brother… one of my brothers,” he began. Renly paused then, and Loras could feel his eyes on him. He just continued with his work. “My brother Garlan, he’s six years older than I am, so he’s had some experience. He sort of… guided me—taught me a lot of what I know. We’d tend the cattle together. Then I have another brother, Willas. But Willas was crippled when I was just a young boy, so I never really did much outdoor work with him. He just stayed at home and bred the horses and wrote stories… he bred the mare that gave me Daisy.

 “And then I have a sister named Margaery. She’s a year younger than me—and the prettiest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. She’s a sweetheart; truly a good person. We’d play games together all the time and she wanted to do what my brothers and I were doing. She even learned to ride like a man—she refused to ride side-saddle, which always made us laugh…” He smiled slightly. It hurt, to talk about them, but it was good to say their names again.

 Renly stayed quiet for some time, and Loras didn’t mind that. He just cleaned up the mess he’d made, and then wandered over to the well that they’d found, collecting some water with the bucket to rinse his hands off. He knew it was a waste, but Loras wasn’t used to being so dirty, and couldn’t stand the grit in his hair and in his teeth and in his clothes. Renly seemed the same, once telling Loras that his favourite thing is having a bath in one of the big basins that hotels have for their guests if they wanted them.

 When he returned, Renly was sitting down, facing the little fire they’d built, the rabbit already cooking. He seemed fine around it now that the guts and other things had been disposed of. Loras approached, but instead of sitting across from Renly, keeping the fire between them as a safety measure, he sat down beside him. If Renly was surprised, he didn’t show it.

 “So your siblings… you must miss them,” Renly said after a time.

 Loras nodded. His throat felt rough, like something was sitting in the back, clogging him up. He swallowed, trying to get it to leave. It didn’t. “Yeah… yeah I miss them a lot…”

 Renly nodded, gaze fixed on the fire and the slowly cooking meat. They’d both been overjoyed when Loras had managed to get them some fresh meat, but the good mood had slipped away like air, leaving them both sullen. Loras missed his family, but Renly… he didn’t know what was going on in Renly’s head.

 “I’m sure you’ll see them again,” Renly said, voice soft. His eyes stayed fixed on the flames. “A true family doesn’t abandon one another for long. At least, that’s what I’ve been told.”


	6. Lost and Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in the below piece of fiction (save perhaps for the hotel owner). GRRM does
> 
> Warning: None

 Dutch Creek was an up and coming place. Located just on the outskirts of the desert in the middle of lush and fertile prairie, it was a prime trading location and an oasis to those coming out of the heat and barren landscape to the west. There were small houses and on the outskirt that proudly displayed the occupants’ wealth, the sidings of the houses neatly painted off-whites and baby blues to combat the ugly, dry wood below that littered most town landscapes. Further into the town and there was a lone paved road that ran along the larger buildings—a hotel, sheriff’s office, Town Hall, and a highly decorated bank with the name Lannister and Co. scrawled across the top. And at the very end, away from the houses and the banks, but still the center of activity for the town, lay the train station—the heartbeat of the settlement itself.

 It was supposed to look like heaven to Loras. It was what he’d come all this way for. That station held a world of possibilities that he’d been desperately looking for all these years.

 But for some reason, as he and Renly made their way towards the town, he couldn’t help but think that Daisy and Ricochet were moving too quickly for his liking—that they were approaching a place that he wasn’t even sure he wanted to go to. Something about it all felt… different than he’d imagined. He thought his heart would be soaring at the sight; he thought he’d be grinning from ear to ear; and he thought he’d be annoyed with the easy pace of Daisy, wanting her to go _faster_. But all he wanted her to do was stop and go back the way they’d come, with Renly right beside him.

 He just felt… morose. As if a door was closing behind him that he didn’t want closed—not yet, at least.

 But he didn’t voice his discomfort or concerns. He was a man, not some child tugging at his mother’s skirt. Renly had fulfilled his end of the deal, and it was time for them to part. He kept glancing over at Renly, memorizing his features, as if he’d forget something about him. He didn’t know why he wanted to remember him so badly…

  _Because he’s been a friend to you and showed you kindness when you needed it the most_ , he thought as their horses stepped on to the pavement. The sound was almost deafening, Loras holding back a grimace as they clomped along the road towards the hotel. People passed by, the street relatively busy, and Loras found it odd to hear so many voices and see so many faces after being isolated in the desert. Renly seemed to be feeling the same way, a sour look on his face as some children ran up ahead, almost spooking Daisy.

 It wasn’t until they’d stopped outside the hotel did Renly finally speak. Loras realized they’d barely said anything all morning…

 “So, here we are—the fabled Dutch Creek. I promised I’d get you here,” Renly said, shifting in his saddle. Loras nodded, inspecting the outside of the hotel. It was a nice place—made of brick with a front patio, men and ladies alike milling around tables.  Inside he could hear a piano being played, and a few conversations carried through the double doors. “It’s a good place,” Renly continued, noticing where Loras’ attention lay. “They have a decent rate and it should fit in your budget. They also have wash basins in every room so you can clean off.”

 “Where will you be staying?” Loras asked, turning his attention back to Renly.

 “A friend of mine owns a shop here. He lets me stay in the back for the night. In the morning I’ll be going off to less reputable places to speak to some even less reputable people.” He shot Loras a wink.

 Loras smirked. “You mean folks like you?”

 Renly rolled his eyes but kept smiling. “It’s been a pleasure riding with you,” he said, sticking his hand out for Loras to take. Loras didn’t hesitate to shake Renly’s hand despite the rock that sank lower in his stomach, making him feel _sick_ almost.

 “Thank you, Renly,” he said, meaning it. “Thank you for everything… truly, you’ve been far too kind.” Their hands broke apart, but Loras could still feel the heat of Renly’s palm against his own. It tingled slightly, and he clenched his fingers together, wanting to preserve it.

 “It was my pleasure—always willing to help out someone who looks like they could use a boost. I was there once, so… I’m happy I could make you at least smile. Have a safe trip, Little Rose.” He tipped his hat, and for a moment Loras thought he saw that ever present smile falter for just a moment—a split second in which Renly seemed to look almost unhappy with the situation, despite the easy way in which he began to pull away from Loras. But it was gone before he could piece it all together, and Renly once again looked ready to move on—without Loras. Nudging Ricochet gently, Renly began to meander away, not looking back. Loras watched him leave, grip tight on the reins and jaw clenched, throat tight. Someone who worked at the hotel was asking him a question, but Loras didn’t hear it, mind wandering already as Renly moved further away.

  _I never did tell him my name…_

 “Loras!” he called. He didn’t think Renly heard, or if he did he didn’t care, but as soon as his heart began to sink Renly was pulling Ricochet in, stopping his slow beast and turning around in his saddle to look at Loras, eyebrows raised. “My name,” he continued, “… it’s Loras.”

 Renly immediately broke out into a lazy grin, a twinkle in his eye. “Loras… I like the sound of that. Rolls off the tongue and suits you fine. Loras…”

 Loras enjoyed the sound of his name when Renly said it. It called like a song passing through his lips…

 “It was good to meet you, Loras.”

 “Same to you, Renly.”

XX

 The hotel room was sparse but comfortable, luxuries available to him that he wasn’t aware he’d been missing. He hadn’t spent so long out in the wild before—at least, not by choice. Last year he and a few ranch hands had been stuck out with the cattle for a week as storm after storm rolled in. They were unable to get them back to the ranch in time, and the river flooded, keeping them on one side for too long—far too long. Loras thought he’d die from the cold.

 But then the sun came up and the river stopped rushing, and Loras thanked God and Mother Nature for giving them all a fighting chance.

 A week was the longest, though, and he knew he’d be getting home where the water was clean and the beds were soft and a fire kept his room warm at night. But now such things as a feathered bed and a wash basin were luxuries of the highest variety for him, and he momentarily forgot his downtrodden mood in favour of enjoying the chance to clean himself up a bit.

 Loras was vain—a quality he was willing to admit to. All of his family had a bit of vanity to them, their good genes something they were proud of. Loras particularly took time and energy to make sure he looked presentable, wanting the best light to be shed on him. The world was mostly visual, people sizing you up depending on how you looked and talked and acted. As a wealthy boy, he’d been trained to please and appease, and value appearances, both physical and social.

Once he did not feel as if he was a walking sand dune, he sat down at the small desk near the thin window that overlooked the busy town. It was still mid-day, the sun high and the settlement humming with business and travel. It made Loras both want to go out and enjoy it all, but at the same time shrink back and recoil from the sudden noise and life. After spending a week in the desert with only Renly for companionship, the hum of conversation gave him a headache.

 Resting his chin on his hand, he stared out at the store across—a general store of some sorts. Loras wondered what store Renly was staying at… probably a shop filled with an assortment of eclectic items and strange wonders from other continents, if the people Renly described as knowing was any indication. If Renly was telling the truth, he knew all sorts of people from all walks of life with all sorts of professions. Doctors and snake oil salesmen, ladies and whores, business men and thieves, gamblers and robbers—every single type of person was an acquaintance of Renly’s, and he seemed to enjoy and cherish them all.

 Loras wondered where these people were now.

 Loras wondered why Renly was traveling alone if he knew all these people…

 Loras wondered where _Renly_ was now…

 Growling, the peace he’d found staring out the window was broken, and he was once again sick with the feeling of uncertainty and the remembrance of Renly’s devilish smile and angelic laugh.

 Leaving the hotel, he decided to busy himself. Normally he’d have gone to be with Daisy, but she was being looked after by the groomsmen of the hotel barn. He’d been nervous at first to leave her, but their hands were gentle on her velvet nose, and the other horses looked happy and healthy inside. Instead he wandered to the train station to see the ticket board and get an idea of where he could travel and how much he’d have to spend. It would cost extra to get Daisy in one of the horse carts, and Loras wondered if he’d brought enough money to get them both there…

_Wherever_ there _is…_

Entering the station, he tried not to show his confusion as he stared up at the board, names of placed he’d never heard of littering it, followed by times and trade routes. It was overwhelming, but he quelled his misgivings by squeezing his hands together, concentrating on the force he was applying. He had no idea what he was doing or where he was going, and one of the women behind the counter was staring at him.

Expecting something of him. Everyone was always _expecting_.

 He turned away in frustration, embarrassed once more. Everyone knew—it was obvious he was lost and confused and completely out of his element. He thought he’d been prepared for this the day he left the ranch; he thought he was actually meant for bigger things than working at his Pa’s ranch and taking care of a wife and their children; he thought he could do this.

 And yet here he was, spurs jingling and boots clicking across a paved road he’d never even seen until he’d arrived this morning, remembering just how in over his head he was.

 Why did it seem so hard again? Why was it crumbling around him once more? His resolve, his confidence, his strength—all ripped away for no reasons at all. He’d never been like this; never been so lost. So scared and confused.

 He needed… needed to rest. He needed to sleep for a bit—everything would look better after he rested; just sat and breathed and—

 He had come to the edge of the town. Stopping, he stared at the rolling hills before him, the heat of the desert hitting his back. His hands were still clenched, his stance still weak, his shoulders still strained. Taking a deep breath, he stepped off of the pavement of civilization and continued into the plains, no idea where he was going or what he was doing.

_I need to leave the town; it’s muddling my mind up further,_ he thought, trudging up a hill, the sounds of horses and carts and conversation replaced by the whistle of the wind and the songs of the bugs. Reaching a tree, he finally stopped, turned around, and sat down underneath it, kicking his feet out, glowering at the ground.

 Picking at the blades of grass, he twisted the blades around his fingers again and again, squeezing the tips of his fingers, making them go peach to red to white, then letting go, the constrictions loosening slowly until his fingers were once again normal in colour. He repeated the process, the long blades taking his mind away as he constricted and released, constricted and released, constricted and released.

 He stayed there for a long while, mind completely blank as the blades were abandoned and his eyes closed; the fear and the anxiety leaving him, replaced by exhaustion both mentally and physically. He might have dozed or he might have been wandering in a waking dream, but he did not move from his spot until the sun had set and the cool light of the moon washed over the fields.

 It was only then that he opened his eyes and watched the evening wind flow through the tall grass. A prairie ocean…

 If this had been like the adventures in Willas’ tales, Loras would already have found his purpose. He’d have been on his way, a stride in his step and his head held high. If this was anything like those adventures, he’d be confident and controlled, not about to break down at any moment.

 But this was real life. Guidance didn’t come easily, and neither did direction. He could travel for years before he’d ever come to some sort of closure or purpose… or maybe he never would. Maybe he’d just sit in the train station and wait for that right train that would never come. He’d never been afraid in his life, and now it was all he could feel. All he could breathe. It sat around him, clouding his judgement, making him hesitate rather than react…

 “What if I never find that road or that purpose?” he mumbled to himself, voicing his fears allowed. To God or to the fields beyond, he wasn’t quite sure.  Either way, he received no answer. Standing, he pressed his hand against the trunk of the tree for support, a tingle in his palm as he warmed the rough and worn bark. He paused then, staring at his hand in the darkness, the tingle still there, faint but _there_.

 It was like when he touched Renly for the first time, their hands locked together in a goodbye. They’d never touched before then, gloves or clothing in the way. But when they shook hands they hadn’t been wearing their gloves, calloused fingers wrapped over top hands, bare palm against bare palm.

 It had felt like _freedom_ when they touched.

 It felt like everything he’d been looking for...

 He ran, then. Through the fields and down towards the town, the lights from lanterns guiding him back down. He’d walked further than he thought he had, but he kept running until his lungs burned and his hat almost blew away in the wind, fingers grabbing it in the last second, ripping it off and holding on to it in the palm that still tingled.

 He arrived at the hotel out of breath, but didn’t stop, entering only to hurry over to the desk of the main room, an older gentleman reading the newspaper. He was only mildly surprised when Loras approached, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

 “Where is the nearest gambling house o-or saloon? A place where men go to relax?”

 Flipping the paper on to the table, the man peered at Loras from behind round spectacles, adjusted his suspenders, and chewed a bit of his tobacco slowly. Finally, he answered. “There’s a brothel near the edge of town furthest from the houses if that’s what you’re lookin’ for, _young man_.”

 Loras didn’t even have the time to be offended by the connotation and nodded his thanks before busting out the lobby, making his way down the street towards what he hoped was the brothel at a slower pace than before, but still rushed and urgent. He’d found his wind and guiding light—he wasn’t going to lose it now. Not ever again.

 The brothel was easy to spot as he continued—rowdy laughter and music coming from inside, all lanterns light while women and men mingled outside, a few hands wandering. Loras had never seen a brothel before—at least, not that he knew of—but that did not stop him as he pushed past the swinging doors and stepped inside the crowded room.

 The room was clouded by smoke and the stench of alcohol and perfumes of numerous concoctions, all wafting about while men roared and women laughed and the pianist kept the music going. Stepping out of the way of the door, Loras stood off to the side, trying to spot a familiar head amongst the crowd. He just hoped he was right in his assumptions…

 No one paid him any attention as he navigated his way through, only being stopped once by a drunkard who he sent a disgusted look as the smell of sweat and alcohol invaded his senses. The man didn’t seem offended by his expression, and instead just kept walking along. As soon as he was out of his way, Loras heard a familiar laugh off to the side, and immediately turned to see Renly at a table with a group of five other men, bottles in their hands and grins on their faces.

  Slipping past a prostitute and her client, he approached Renly, and only just noticed one of the men reach for his gun at the last minute. He froze then, hands rising immediately. “I’m here to see Renly,” he said over the noise in the room.

 Renly turned then, eyes narrowed before widening as they locked with his own. “What are you—“

 “Renly?!” The man who had reached for his gun leaned back in his chair, a smirk on his lips that didn’t reach his eyes. He had a thick southern accent and a slow drawl, ease in his movements as if he was trying to impress. “I haven’t heard someone call you Renly in years.”

 “Shut it, Greyjoy,” Renly said, shooting him a hard stare. “This is the kid I was talking about.”

 Greyjoy pursed his lips and rolled his eyes, chair lurching forward to rest on all fours again. “Oh, the “Little Rose”…”

 Everyone else was silent, eyes trained on Loras as he stood waiting, head held high and lips pulled tight. He wasn’t about to show his intimidation—not anymore. Not now. Renly put his bottle down on the table and mumbled something to the men before rising and turning around, smiling as he approached Loras.

 It seemed tight.

 “Let’s go outside,” he said as he passed, making his way through the crowd. Loras followed, eyes boring holes into his back as he left.

 As soon as they stepped out on to the deck, Loras felt like he could breathe again, the smoke from inside making his eyes water and his lungs scream out in pain. Coughing softly in his hand, he trailed further after Renly until they’d stopped near the watering trough for the horses.

 “You shouldn’t have gone in there,” Renly said, turning around, hands on his hips. The golden belt buckle shone in the light from the lantern above them, and Loras was reminded of the alleyway again.

 “Why not?” he asked, lifting his chin.

 “Because there are men in there who would shoot you just for the hat you’ve got on. Damn, Little Rose, Greyjoy was about to put a bullet through you just because you walked up to the table like you owned it—you can’t just approach men with trigger fingers like that.”

 “I’m not afraid of—“

 “You should be.” Renly’s voice was tight and strained, a bite to it Loras had never heard before. He immediately seemed to regret the tone, and rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. “Sorry, I’m just… You worry me a bit. I mean, I shouldn’t worry because I don’t really know you, but I can’t help it. I mean, I can already tell you have a habit of putting yourself into sticky situations because you didn’t asses the moment correctly or plan ahead.”

 Loras blushed, anger spiking through him. He was angrier with himself more than anything, his exact predicament being voiced by an outside observer. But he still couldn’t help but react defensively, jaw clenching. “Says the man who rode on the back of my saddle after I already pointed a gun on him. I’d say you’re more of a trusting fool than I am. I could have just shot you.”

 Renly snorted. “Mm, yeah, well you didn’t, and here we are.”

 “Here we are, indeed. Looks like both of our follies haven’t killed us yet; you the trusting outlaw and me the lone wanderer.”

 “More like the bullheaded wanderer,” Renly mumbled, a cheeky smile on his face. Loras found it hard not to return. “What did you want, Little Rose?”

 Loras paused. _Right,_ _I’d come to ask him of something_ … He’d completely forgotten for a moment that he had a purpose, the stone in his gullet gone as soon as he’d seen Renly, making him overlook anything but the relief and the happiness that finally washed over him.

 “I want you to take me North,” he said.

 The smile on Renly’s face dropped. “No.”


	7. Welcome to the Gang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in the below piece of fiction-- GRRM does.
> 
> Warnings: Mild Language
> 
> Authors Note: Things are picking up! We're getting close to some real cowboy action soon. Thanks for all the kind words and the kudos-- you're all real peaches!

 Loras felt like they’d done this before—in fact, they _had_ done this before. The eerie sense of deja vu crept up his spine and along his limbs, but he didn’t think about the unease; not when Renly was currently trying to walk as far away from him as he possibly could, arms waving about and shoulders hunched, occasionally turning around to yell at him about this and that, excused flying off left right and center, followed by more hunched shoulders and the shake of his head. Most of it didn’t make much sense—in fact, it’s all sorts of ridiculous to Loras, and that’s why he didn’t stop following Renly.

 “If you’d just tell me what you have against going north maybe I wouldn’t keep asking!” Loras said for what seemed like the tenth time after Renly told him no for what seemed like the twentieth time.

 “I just don’t have the time to go north, Loras!” Renly called back, heading towards some unknown location. They’ve almost left the town by now, and Loras began to wonder if they were going to just keep going.

 “Why? Where are you going other than north? South down to Mexico?” he asked.

 “You don’t want to go where I am going,” Renly called over his shoulder, stopping for just a split second at cross-roads, then continued left and into the neighborhood.

 “How do you know that?” Loras was getting annoyed with Renly’s evasion, and was even more disgruntled now that Renly presumed to know what he did and did not want to do. It wasn’t his place to say what Loras wanted to do.

 Renly didn’t say anything for a time, just kept on walking, Loras following behind, both of them wearing glowers on their faces as they went down a dusty road between the houses. _I can do this all evening_ , Loras thought, determined to get Renly to tell him a solid, real answer that would convince him of why he shouldn’t go north with Renly.

 But clearly Renly could not, and slowed before turning around, waiting for Loras to get closer, speaking as soon as he’d drawn near enough to hear his words through tight lips. “I’m going to go rob a bank, Loras. Those men I was meeting with are some of the people _I_ know who _you_ don’t want to know. The reason I went through that desert and have arrived here is because no one knows my face here. I’m a wanted man, Loras—I rob and I steal and I kill, and as soon as that sun rises I’m on the move again to get a few more people you _really_ don’t want to know, and we’re all going to some small little town to take their money and ride off in the sunset.”

 As Renly spoke Loras stood still, soaking in what he was saying. He didn’t dare look away from Renly’s intense gaze, keeping their eyes locked as Renly tried to intimidate him. He knew soon enough he’d start going on about how he was a bad man and a bad person, but Loras couldn’t find it in himself to care. He’d run away from home with little to no money, no idea where he was going, and according to Renly, a target on his back for thieves and sexual deviants. If Renly thought he was going to settle down here and just find a job, he was sorely mistaken.

  “So, is that something you want to be a part of, Loras? Am I really the type of person you want taking you up north? Because I can guarantee you that I’ll be doing what I always do to survive, and I don’t know if you’ll be able to handle that.”

 Loras’ nostrils flared at the comment, chin rising in defiance. Renly had made it a challenge, and Loras could see it in Renly’s eyes as he realized this at the last minute. His eyes grew wide, and he visibly winced when Loras smirked. “I can handle it,” he began, only to have Renly start walking away from him. He followed once more. “Look, Renly, I don’t know what you’re trying to protect me from, but whatever it is you don’t want me seeing, I think I can honestly say I’ll see it eventually—probably sooner if you leave me out here on my own.”

 “I don’t want you doing what I did to survive,” Renly mumbled, shaking his head slightly, eyes flicking over to Loras as he continued to walk. “You’re better than that—you’re better than a lot of this, so you should just stay away.”

 “And you think leaving me is gonna help? If you leave me to fend for myself do you think I’d do any better than you? What’s better than keeping me in your sights? Teaching me about your mistakes so I don’t make them?”

 Renly stopped again, so sudden that Loras almost tripped on his own feet, spurs jingling as he slowed down. Renly didn’t say anything for a time, just stared at the road ahead, breathing slow and even despite the obvious agitation. Loras watched him in the dark, wondering what was going on in his head, light from one of the lanterns on a porch highlighting the sharp silhouette of his face.  He could see him working his jaw back and forth, eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring every so often. “Are you sure you want to follow me?” he asked slowly, eyes still trained ahead.

 Loras nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure.” He was, for a change. After wandering lost, unable to figure out what he really wanted, he finally found it; finally grasped hold of what was eluding him for so long. What was once smoke, slipping away through the cracks of his hand, now became solid and real, something he could hold and cherish. Renly was his ticket to the adventure and rush he wanted, and he was going to be damned if he didn’t catch that train.

 Renly sighed then, pinching the bridge of his nose. Turning, he peered at Loras in the dark, but he wasn’t looking at him as if he was expecting something of him, he was just… looking. Trying to find something out but not expecting an answer from Loras. “If you do this, you leave your old life behind, Little Rose. I mean, you become wanted, and maybe you’ll get a pardon letter that’ll give you your old life back, but chances are real slim. You can’t just saunter into any town you want anymore, and you’re going to make enemies with lawmen and outlaws alike. And you have got to be ready to _kill_ or be _killed_. I mean, someone will try and hurt you—there aren’t any laws between outlaws.”

 Loras did not hesitate when he answered. “I am positive.” The killing and the possibility of death, that didn’t frighten Loras. No, what scared him was not living beforehand.

  _Death is certain, life is not._

 “Fuckin’ hell… _fine_.” Renly glowered and Loras beamed.

XX

 Loras was told to meet up with everyone at the Saloon he’d found Renly in when morning came. When he arrived the place was relatively quiet, most of the drunks and the gamblers still fast asleep. Some of them had made it to their rooms, but others had just fallen asleep outside in between the buildings, invisible to the general public and the lawmen as long as they stayed in the shadows and out of the way.

  Pushing the doors open, Loras strode in and noticed that two men from Renly’s table from last night were sitting there—the man Renly called ‘Greyjoy’, and another person whom he did not know the name of. There was something familiar about him though, but the more Loras studied his deep grey eyes that held a certain melancholy, the further the familiarity went away, and he settled with realizing he didn’t really care too much who the man was, so long as he didn’t try and start trouble with him.

 Loras also noticed that Renly was missing. _Can’t even make it to his own meeting on time…_

 “Hey, it’s the Little Rose,” Greyjoy said, a smirk on his lips as he leaned back in his chair, knocking it back so it rested on its two back feet. “ _Renly_ told us you were coming.” He said Renly’s name in a mocking tone. The man at the table was silent, head bowed but eyes locked on him as he came closer.

 “My name is Loras,” he said, stopping at the table, eying Greyjoy. He didn’t like hearing Little Rose coming from Greyjoy’s mouth.

 “It’s good to meet you, Loras,” Greyjoy replied, still resting back in his chair and making no move to shake his hand or do anything more than sit. “I’m Theon Greyjoy and the silent fellow over here is Jon Snow.”

 “Hello,” Snow mumbled, little warmth in his tone. Loras did not have to ask why he was called Snow. When Jon sat up a little straighter, Loras was once again reminded of someone, but it was gone as soon as the light shifted on his face, casting him in the blaze of the lazy morning sun that crept through the window.

 Nodding a hello, Loras pulled up a chair and sat down, still wary but not willing to show it. Greyjoy just kept staring at him, a cheeky smile on his face. But it lacked substance, and Loras could see the man was just as cautious as he was by the look in his eyes. “Where is Renly?”

 “Baratheon lost his horse—again. He went off lookin’ for it. So we’re waiting.”

  Ricochet—the horse that continued to bemuse Loras. He still hadn’t figured out what breed it was, exactly. It was a strange, strange animal indeed. Fitting for Renly, really… or Baratheon, he supposed. “I see… any valleys nearby?”

 “None that I know of… You know about Ricochet and his valley thing?” Loras swore Greyjoy sounded a bit jealous, but his face revealed nothing.

 “Yes, that’s how we came to meet. I helped him find Ricochet when he went missing down at Last Chance, in exchange for help getting across the desert.” Loras wondered what Renly had told them. Clearly they knew of him, what with Greyjoy calling him Little Rose, but how much had Renly _really_ told them?

 “Mm, well ain’t that a cute little meeting,” he drawled out. “Did you two share stories as you sat around the fire at night? Did he tell you about all his adventures, like that one time he got shot in the leg, while you told him about one time you got a splinter opening a wooden gate?”

 Loras glared across at him, jaw shifting forward, trying to keep in check. _Greyjoy’s opinions are worthless—he’s just testing you. Poking you to see you falter and to see your weaknesses_. There was silence for a time, both men staring each other down, when Snow spoke, his voice soft and careful. “Don’t antagonize him, Theon. He’s a person Baratheon trusts so there is no need to mock him like this.”

 Loras did not need someone fighting his own battles, but he was grateful for Snow’s interference. He still wasn’t used to all of this—this way of communicating and handling oneself. Greyjoy had a gun at his side that Loras _knew_ he wasn’t afraid to use, and while Loras had a pair of revolvers too, that flashed in the light and made for a pretty sight, he wasn’t about to just get into random fights over nothing. Just like Snow had said—Renly trusted him, but Renly also trusted Greyjoy, expecting them both to get along best they could. He’d just take the higher ground.

 “Oh right, because we’re just supposed to accept a new member like that. Look at him, Jon—he’s had a good life and an easy one at that. Why should we trust him?”

 “Because I’m not bitter about life and the hand I’ve been dealt, so I don’t go around judging and pulling a gun on a man who doesn’t deserve it. But when I do pull a gun, you can be rest assured I sure as hell know how to shoot.”

 Greyjoy’s and Snow’s eyes were on him in a second, Greyjoy’s mouth relaxing into a lazy ‘o’ while Snow snorted, the glimmer of a smile on his lips. Loras couldn’t help but smirk at their reactions, pleased he’d manage to shut Greyjoy up for a moment. Relaxing in his chair, he watched Greyjoy, almost daring him to make another move.

 “Well would you look at you three—getting along well, I expect?”

 Renly’s voice broke them all from the spell that had been cast, the tension snapping like a dried piece of bark. Snow sat back and once again ducked his head, while Greyjoy slammed his chair back on to all four feet, one last glare sent in Loras’ direction before he was smiling up at Renly. Loras turned almost immediately when Renly’s voice broke through, glad to see he’d returned, no longer leaving him with a mutt that didn’t know when to sit.

 “Oh you know us—just welcoming the new recruit,” Greyjoy said, and Loras played along, nodding his head, trying to keep up appearances. He sincerely hoped not everyone Renly knew was as broody as Snow or as annoying as Greyjoy. Renly didn’t seem to believe either of them, but sent Greyjoy a warning look and not Loras.

 “Did you find your horse?” Snow asked.

 Renly nodded, sliding a chair up to sit in between Greyjoy and Loras. “Yeah he was sort of wandering aimlessly. I really wish I could find out why people keep untying Ricochet from the hitching post. I thought I was supposed to be unknown in this town.”

 “You are—it’s your horse that’s more famous than you.” It slipped out before Loras could stop it, and once again everyone was staring at him, eyebrows raised high.

 Greyjoy was the first to laugh. “The kid is probably right! That horse has got more fame on its ugly ass head than you do!”

 Renly just rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair and stared at Loras, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “And here I thought you liked me.”

 The tension had left completely after that, Greyjoy seeming to enjoy Loras’ presence more after he’d taken a shot at Renly. They began to plan, getting right down to business, and although Loras tried to keep up, he was a bit lost, not recognizing many of the names of the slang being tossed around. They weren’t actually planning the robbery—not in broad daylight in a public space—but Renly kept talking about meeting at an abandoned house outside the town the bank was after he recruited a few more people for the job, Greyjoy and Snow nodding along. But just as things were carrying along accordingly, Renly said something that had Snow stiffening in his seat, head shaking and jaw tight.

 “—and then after I get Ygritte—“

 “No.”

  Renly paused mid-hand motion, mouth snapping shut as Snow shifted in his chair. “What?”

 “I said no—I don’t want Ygritte a part of this.”

 Renly’s shoulders slumped and Greyjoy’s eyes rolled so high up into his skull Loras thought he’d lose them in there. “And why not?” Renly asked, brow quirked, the smile always playing on his lips gone again. Loras noticed he hadn’t been smiling as much since they’d entered Dutch Creek…

 “She’s… sneaky. Too sneaky—she cannot be trusted.”

 “Just because she fucked you and stole your money and your gear the first time you met doesn’t mean she can’t be trusted. Sneaky is good, Jon,” Greyjoy drawled out, grinning like a cat. He was enjoying watching Snow squirm.

 “That’s not the reason. She just cannot be trusted—we shouldn’t have let her into the last heist, she took off with more than what was hers.”

 “Only because you gave it to her after she sweet-talked you into it,” Renly countered, making Snow blush. “Really, Snow, you just have a vendetta against her because she’s got you hogtied and roped to the back of her horse.”

 “She does not!”

 Loras just sat and listened, watching and wondering if this was really a conversation that was happening. He thought outlaws were supposed to discuss how to take out rival gangs and evade the law, not tease one of theirs about a girl that he liked.

 “You let women ride with you?” Loras piped up, curious about this Ygritte woman. Renly stopped teasing Snow and nodded.

 “Yeah, we do. I don’t see any reason not to—some of these girls have got better aim than even you. I’m sure your sister would have fit right in.”

 Loras laughed, the thought of Margaery part of a gang a bit much. Yes, she was tough as nails and had a clever mind, but she’d never been one for the fighting or steer wrestling. “She probably wouldn’t stand for most of the conversation going on right now—she’d smack us all upside the head and tell us to get our shit together.”

  _My language and tone is already changing_ , he realized as the conversation once again picked up around him, Snow forgetting his animosity against Ygritte in favourite cooperating. When Loras had lived with his family he tried to keep his tongue in line, never saying crass or rude things, even though he was thinking them. He’d been trained not to say such things—he’d been trained to act like a gentleman. But Loras had never felt much like a gentleman, at least, not inside. Outwardly he played the role well, but inside he was just as much a brute like the rest of them. He just knew how to hide it well.

 But now, being exposed to men who didn’t rightly give a shit either way how someone saw them, Loras found he was letting his tongue loosen a bit, words and come-backs flying out naturally and freely. It felt good to finally just say what he wanted…

 Eventually they all stepped out of the Saloon as more and more patrons came in, the meeting done. Renly would be going off to recruit Ygritte and whomever she had with her, while Greyjoy and Snow would venture to the meeting spot. Loras didn’t know where he was going, but as they left and neared their horses, Greyjoy put his arm around Loras’ shoulders and guided him towards his mount. “You’re coming with Snow and I—we’ll all meet up with Baratheon later. He doesn’t really like traveling with other people.” Loras attempted to shrug Greyjoy off, not enjoying the close proximity, his breath smelling of stale alcohol and tobacco—nothing like the peppermint that hung on Renly’s breath from the leaves he kept stashed in a little pouch against his hip.

 “Nah, he’s coming with me.” Renly’s hand grasped his elbow gently, and Loras followed easily enough.

 “What?!” Greyjoy shouted, loud enough to spook the horses and get a few people passing by to look at them. “You don’t travel with people, Baratheon! You have this whole thing about—what?!”

 “Yeah well he’s coming with me. I don’t see why you’re so hard pressed about it—you have Snow with you and I’m pretty sure Loras isn’t really your choice traveling companion anyways.”

 “Yeah but, I mean, you never let anyone travel with you! You’re just going to let someone who hasn’t even proven himself to ride beside you? What has he done to earn your respect like that?” Moving forward, he approached Renly, completely and utterly dumbfounded. “Jon and I have been with you since the beginning—Jon ripped a bullet out of your leg and I stitched it for you, and yet we’ve never rode with you for more than a few days.”

 “I made a promise to him,” Renly said. Loras noticed his grip was still tight around his arm, and getting tighter by the second. Shifting slightly, he managed to get Renly to let go, and backed up and out of the way of the argument, feeling distinctly out of place and not really understanding what the deal was.

 “I… fine. Fine I just… fine.” Greyjoy turned around and trudged over to his horse, clambering up on top of it only to notice he hadn’t untied the reins from the hitching post. He sat for a moment, staring at the reins with a certain amount of venom Loras had only seen in his grandmother’s eyes, before he slid off and untied his horse with as much dignity as he could muster. Pulling his horse around, he kicked it into a trot and took off, Snow followed behind slowly, looking over his shoulder to send Renly a lazy salute.

 Renly tipped his hat and watched them leave, not saying anything to Loras as they stood. “Best go get Daisy from the stables and then we’ll take off, too,” Renly finally said, turning around. Walking beside him, Loras played over the conversation in his head, wondering what was going on with Renly not traveling with anyone.

 He should have asked. Should have questioned or pried. But Renly was tense—tenser than usual, the smiles gone and the ease at which he moved missing. He was stiff and guarded—he’d been like that since Loras had approached him last night, and he realized he’d done something wrong. Pushed Renly when he didn’t want to be pushed…

 “I’m sorry,” he said, the words sounding foreign in his mouth. He wasn’t used to admitting his faults nor his mistakes. A sorry meant he was doing just that. But it had to be said—he didn’t want this all starting out on a bad note.

 Renly honestly seemed surprised, his brows rising high as he turned to look at Loras. “Sorry for what? Greyjoy’s reactions weren’t your fault; he’s just a bit of a prickly fella and jealous to boot.”

 “No, I mean… for pushing you. Making you agree I should have respected your wishes.” He rubbed the back of his neck, stopping when Renly stopped.

 “Don’t apologize for that—I was being… stubborn. I just thought that maybe you’d, I don’t know, find an honest job and get a house and a wife and settle. But then I realized that was exactly what you ran from in the first place. You weren’t made for that life—you were made for this one. And you need someone to watch your back, so it’d be an honoured to be that person for you.”

 Renly’s smile was so genuine and real, Loras felt the twist in his gut leave. “I… thank you. I promise I’ll pull my own and I’ll prove I belong. I’ll do a good job.”

 Renly nodded and patted Loras’ shoulder, sighing softly. “I know you’ll do a good job, which is one of the reasons I said no beforehand.”


	8. Smile of a Gun Barrel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine-- they belong to GRRM
> 
> Warning: None
> 
> Authors Note: Guess who shows up this chapter...

“—and it’s not as if he’s stupid, he’s just a special thing. Unique, I’d guess you’d call him.”

 Loras nodded, fingers scratching under Ricochet’s chin, eyes dull as Ricochet’s lower lip dropped further and further.

 “Of course, I don’t know exactly what he came from, so maybe whatever he did come from was like… a breed of something really fucking dumb.”

 “Maybe he came from whatever Greyjoy popped out of,” Loras mumbled, not even jumping when Renly let out a loud holler from behind him, followed by the slam of a palm against his back.

 “You best be careful with that tongue of yours, Little Rose. Someone might just pluck it out one day if you’re not careful,” Renly drawled out, sliding up beside Loras. Loras just smirked, fingers running up large arched nose of Ricochet to scratch under his bridle. They’d set up camp a while ago, and Loras had been left to tend the horses. It was a nice night—crisp and cool, a slight breeze in the air that ruffled the horses’ manes and created songs in the grass.

 Renly has untied his hair from the ribbon he’d used to keep some of his hair tied back, and shaggy black locks would hide piercing blue eyes for just a moment as the wind blew through it, making Loras want to reach out and brush them back so he could once again see the man behind the mystery.

If only it were that easy, though. Just push away a few locks and tuck them behind an ear to have Renly reveal all his secrets…

 Since they’d taken off together, leaving Dutch Creek behind in search of the famous Ygritte, Renly had shut down, no longer sharing his world with Loras like he had when they were going through the desert. Something had changed, despite Renly’s reassurances that he wasn’t upset with Loras for pressuring him into taking him north. He wasn’t sure what it was, though. Renly just… didn’t talk about himself anymore, instead going on about trivial little things like his horse or the feeling of sand in your teeth.

 In fact, Loras was revealing more of his life in hopes that Renly would do the same; but it wasn’t working. He just evaded questions or shrugged, and that smile he always wore would falter just a bit. Enough to bring Loras’ attention straight up from the glowing embers of the fire.

 He was starting to worry about it all—worry that Renly was actually terribly angry with him and was just hiding it well; worried that perhaps he’d ruined their relationship and the easy companionship they’d developed over the two weeks they’d been traveling together; worried that it wasn’t going to work out and he’d made a terrible mistake.

 Margaery had told him he worried too much. Loras only worried about the things that mattered. And unfortunately, it seemed like there was a lot out in the world that mattered.

 And so he sought company in the simple mind of Ricochet. The beast was a gentle, if not stupid horse, and Loras enjoyed how his head would droop and his ears would fold back anytime he was so much as rubbed underneath the chin just a little. Daisy was a bit jealous of the attention, but then again, Daisy was jealous most days.

 Just like her rider.

 “How do you know Greyjoy? I mean, how did you two meet?” Loras asked casually. He stared at the groove above Ricochet’s eye, the little indent growing darker as the sun set lower in the sky.  

 “Saved him in a bar brawl. He was close to my age and we sort of fell into easy companionship based on the fact that we were both young and in a tough situation.”

 “How old were you?”

 Renly shrugged. “Don’t remember. I don’t even know how old I am now.”

 “You don’t know how old you are?” Loras paused, thumb rubbing the smooth leather of the strap across Ricochet’s nose.

 Renly shrugged again. “Nah, I lost track around the time I was… I don’t know, it doesn’t matter,” he finished hastily. Loras was about to question further, but Renly pulled away from him and headed to the small circle of stones he’d collected, a hole dug in the center for a fire. Loras had shot another rabbit in the afternoon as they traveled, and they were eager to cook it before the meat spoiled.

 Checking the horses once more, Loras joined Renly just as the fire started, mood sullen once more. Did Renly not trust him?

 “Do you not trust me?” He sat down beside him, picked a blade of grass from the ground, twisting it around his finger, watching Renly out of the corner of his eye.

 “No, I trust you… as much as I can trust you. You haven’t done a lot to gain my trust, but then again you haven’t done anything to take it away, either … why, what brought this on?” Shifting, Renly turned to look at Loras, a brow quirked.

 “I don’t know… I still feel like I’ve intruded a bit. I know you said you didn’t mind me coming along with you and I believe you, but it just feels like you only did it because you felt obligated to.”

 “I did feel obligated to.” Renly’s voice wasn’t harsh nor soft, just matter-of-fact and to the point. Loras supposed he should have expected the answer; after all, it wasn’t as if Renly had offered to take him up north, Loras had more pressured him into it more than anything. “Look, Loras—it really isn’t a big deal. I just… I don’t often travel with others.”

 “How come?”

 Renly was silent for a moment, and Loras wondered if he was ever going to speak again when Renly mumbled a soft, slow reply. “I’ve just learned over the years that the only person you can depend on is yourself.”

 Loras looked up from the roasting rabbit when Renly said that, hazel eyes locking with the deep blue that seemed continually hidden by the broad brim of a hat or the dark coal of his hair. But the wind had brushed the hair away, and Loras was free to see the pain in his gaze. It wasn’t there long, just a glimmer or perhaps a mirage, before the mischief was once again there, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he smiled.

 “Why are you smiling?” Loras asked, broken from the moment.

 Renly reached out then, and gently tugged at a curl that had fallen across Loras’ forehead. “I never realized how curly your hair is,” he mused, twirling the lock around his finger before releasing. Loras was about to protest Renly’s obvious distraction, but it all died on his lips the moment calloused fingertips slid across his temple and down his jaw, unusually tender and gentle. He leaned into the touch almost instinctually, watching Renly’s eyes as they observed the path his fingers had made.

 “My entire family… it’s from my father’s side,” he mumbled, a blush spreading across his cheeks that he couldn’t rightly explain. Renly’s hand dropped to his shoulder in that instant, and he gave it a rough pat and a squeeze before he pulled away and turned back to the fire.

 “It’s nice, but it’ll make you stick out like a sore thumb. Best keep it hidden when we’re doing any nefarious deeds,” he suggested, the tenderness gone, once again replaced by bluntness and that usual spot of humour that seemed to leak into anything he said, no matter the circumstance or the topic.

 Loras nodded and went to stare at one of the rocks near the fire, watching the reflection of the flames dance along the smooth surface. He’d completely forgotten about the previous conversation, and instead could only think about how his skin tingled where warm, calloused fingers had worn a gentle path.

XX

 The group Ygritte traveled with was a wandering crew from all lower walks of life. Most of them were immigrants, come over to profit from the untapped riches of America and to live the dream, but most had just found the same hierarchy that pervaded Europe. Instead of settling and trying to fit in, they took advantage of the wilderness the west had to offer, and formed a group that traveled around using techniques the natives of the land had used for thousands of years.

  Ygritte herself was from Scotland, having come over on a boat when she was just a young girl. Although she lived in America most of her life, Loras had been told that she cherished her Scottish heritage more than that of her American one, and still spoke with the trill of a Scottish accent. She also knew how to use a gun with deadly accuracy, and despite social norms dictating she should stay with the caravans and tend to the children, she and other younger women would ride off with the capable men and patrol the area for any gangs in the area; gangs intent on preying on a slow moving group of men and women from all ages and creeds.

 Loras had also been told that most of the people in the rag-tag group of wanders had little like for the richer folks in the area. Renly assured him there would be no trouble about that, but Loras couldn’t help think that he’d be held with as much trust in Ygritte’s eyes as a cow did when the branding iron came near, everything about him displaying his proper upbringing and previously rich lifestyle.

 The caravan wouldn’t be too hard to spot once they’d found the path. Renly had asked a local farmer near the trail that twisted through the prairie lands if he’d seen a large group meander by, and the farmer was more than willing to point them in the right direction, eyes drifting down to their guns now and again, fist tightening around his rake.

 “I get that a lot—farmers get nervous around men who look like me,” Renly explained once they’d made some distance from the farm.

 “Look like you?”

 “Yeah, like an outlaw. I don’t look like regular folk such as yourself,” Renly said, shifting in his saddle. “A lot of men like to prey on the weak—weak men such as old farmers and families.”

 “But you don’t?” Loras asked, curious as to what Renly deemed appropriate to steal and what was not.

 “No, I make sure I only target places that can handle it. There is no honour in stealing from those who cannot defend themselves and work hard just to put bread on the table.”

 The corner of Loras’ lips pulled, the discrepancies Renly was drawing out for him making little sense. “And the bankers you rob from don’t work hard for what they’ve made? What about the people who keep their money in the bank? What about them?”

 Renly kicked Ricochet forward then, speeding up before turning around, blocking Loras’ path. “What did I tell you, Loras?” he asked, voice strained. “You asked to come along knowing fully well what I do. I told you _exactly_ what I do. You agreed to the terms when you said you wanted to come with me; those terms are still the same as they were yesterday and today, and they’ll be the same tomorrow and forever. I rob, I kill, I steal and I cheat, but I have never—“ he jerked his reins, making Ricochet prance on the spot, “—killed or hurt an innocent person.”

 He was getting frustrated, nostrils flared and mouth tight as he stared Loras down. Loras held on to his reins, trying not to let the sudden outburst from Renly get to him. It was good to see him show some emotion past amusement or melancholy, the air around them more heated than it had been the past two weeks. There was a fire behind his gaze, one that Loras almost loathed to put out.

 “And what’s your definition of innocent?” he asked, Daisy standing still as Ricochet continued to prance, reading his rider’s emotions.

 “What’s my definition of innocent?” Renly repeated, a snort coming out. “My definition of innocent is someone who doesn’t have a gun pointed at me and isn’t in the business of lying and cheating.”

 “So the bank tellers—the ones you hold up and tie up and probably kill—are they in the business of lying and cheating?”

  Renly spurred Ricochet, the beast jumping forward only to be stopped when they were side by side, Renly staring Loras down. “You said you wanted to come with me, Little Rose.” His teeth were pressed together, ever word harsh. And his eyes, his eyes were wild. There was a certain madness that had claimed hold of him; a fury swirling around in deep blue hues. But Loras did not recoil from the intimidation. For some reason, he knew Renly wasn’t going to hurt him...

 “I did,” he replied, chin still held high as he faced off with Renly. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t ask questions, though.”

 “Yeah, well stop asking questions and expecting answers that you can comprehend. You’re in a different world, Loras, and you best start knowing when to stop pressing people. Because patience runs about as thin as mercy does around here.” Despite his words, Renly had softened near the end, the edge in his glare leaving. Sighing, he looked down the road they were traveling on. Bottom lip sucked in between his teeth, he turned back to Loras. “Let’s keep going,” he said before Loras could formulate a response.

 Loras was used to being intimidated. He was small and slight, and he always felt as if he had to prove himself twice as much as any other boy his age. He’d come into tough confrontations on the ranch. Ranch hands who didn’t know he was the owners son asking why he was shooting his mouth off and bossing them around, and Loras would always have to puff himself up, his arrogance and hidden strength his weapons. He’d learned to stop physically fighting when he was younger, shooting becoming a release for his physically aggression, but he’d still use his words to push a person over the edge; make them see red and wait for them to attack.

 Which was why he let himself shake from nerves only after Renly had turned around and continued on the path, his shoulders hunched and cigarette dangling from his lips, the tension between them mostly gone. Loras hadn’t expected Renly to hurt him when he was in the middle of it all, but as soon as things had cleared he realized how close he’d come to over-stepping. Renly was a killer and Loras kept forgetting that. And he also kept forgetting that _he_ wasn’t one. Renly could have shot him, but he didn’t…

 He wasn’t going to apologize, though, his questions ones he thought worth asking. Knowing the integrity of a man was key, his father had always told him. “Do you think we’re close?” he asked instead, Daisy speeding up so they were once again walking side by side.

 “We should be, I don’t see—“

 The crack of gunpowder followed by a small plume of dust against the hill they were walking beside silenced Renly.

 Daisy spooked first, hooves dancing to the side as another shot was fired off in the distance. Holding hard on to the reins, Loras tried to keep her steady, his own heart racing as a few more shots missed, one coming dangerously close to Renly’s head just as he leaned backward to slap Ricochet on the ass.

 “Get moving!” Renly hollered as Ricochet took off. Loras needed little coaxing and kicked Daisy into a gallop, the two shooting off down the path, Loras trailing behind Renly. Lifting himself up, Loras flattened his body best he could, trying to keep low not only to ease the riding, but to prevent himself from getting shot. He couldn’t even think about what was going on, no time for him to try and figure out who was shooting at them and why and where they were going. It was all just moving too fast for him, mind going blank as he stared straight ahead, Renly’s figure a beacon of salvation as he once again trusted him with his life.

 They did not ride long before Renly was slowing down and leading Ricochet off the path and into the brush, tall grass swishing against the sides of the horses as Loras followed without qualms. Nearing a grove of trees, Renly pulled them up just outside and stood in the stirrups, neck stretched and eyes narrowed, peering across the plains.

  _He still has his cigarette in his mouth_ , Loras thought, staying silent and low on Daisy as Renly looked around for whoever it was that was following them. Edging Daisy closer into the grove, Loras took his rifle off of his back, not sure what he was going to do with it but finding it comforting in his hands none the less. Renly continued to look around, the ash on his smoke building and building as he waited and waited.

 Loras’ heart was beating faster than he thought possible, the rush from it all making him want to ride out and confront whoever had shot them. It was an old feeling—one he hadn’t experienced in a long while, not since his mother told him never to fight again. But the flicker of excitement and the rush that fighting had given him when he was a child was coming back, lighting everything inside him on fire.

 “What was that about?” Loras asked, swallowing the adrenaline—curbing the instinct to fight. It was hard to.

 “I don’t know…” Renly said slowly, attention still out on the plains. He’d sat back down in the saddle, but hadn’t made move to go either further into the grove or out back into the plains. Plucking the cigarette from his lips, he snubbed it out on the horn of his saddle before pushing it in his pocket, always mindful of starting a grass fire. “Could have been a gang, could have been some people who thought we were encroaching on their territory, or it could have been—“

 That was the second time Renly was interrupted by a shock in a matter of minutes, only this time it was a pair of hands grabbing him and yanking him down off his horse. All long limbs and a shout of surprise, Renly hit the ground hard, disappearing from Loras’ view.

 Not even thinking, Loras trained his gun on the commotion, rifle barrel pointed down while the barrel of a pistol pointed upward in a matter of seconds. Staring into wild, sky blue eyes framed by bright red hair the colour of fire, Loras cocked his gun and kept his hand steady, not backing down at the woman kept hers just as still and in control.

 Loras couldn’t hear anything save for the beat of his heart and the thrum of blood running through his head, defining and all consuming. Finger twitching over the trigger, Loras kept his eyes trained on the woman, Renly’s motions down below no concern of his while the barrel of the pistol glistened in the sunlight.

 Finally, the woman spoke, the ghost of a Scottish accent blanketing her words.

 “You best tell your friend here to remove his rifle from my face, Baratheon. I don’t like it when someone introduces themselves with the smile of a gun barrel.”


	9. Token of Affection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. GRRM does.
> 
> Warning: None.

 Loras did not like a lot of people.

 He had been told he could be as prickly as a rose at times, never giving anyone an inch of room to get on his good side if they so much as crossed over into his bad one. It wasn’t as if Loras purposely went into relationships expecting to dislike the person; it just happened. And it was almost always entirely the other person’s fault that he did not like them. They were either too dumb or too crass or too… _something_.

 Loras liked people who made him laugh and made him smile; who didn’t think to highly of themselves and were competent and kind. Respect was also key—which was why Loras liked Renly. He was all of those things and more, and Loras saw him as an equal, despite having grown up a rich young man in the lap of luxury.

 People Loras did not like, however, were people who yanked other people off of horses, pulled guns on him, and then proceeded to reprimand him for anything and everything he was, while toying with every items he owned.

 People like Ygritte.

 “So did you want to come with us? It’s a minor one, but you can get some cash and fix that wagon you’ve got over there with the squeaky wheel,” Renly said, sitting on his bedroll, a grin on his face as Ygritte fiddled with Loras’ rifle.

 “You heard it squeaking?” Ygritte asked, head bowed, fingers running along the stock. Loras swore he’d bitten through his entire tongue watching her _fondle_ his weapons. They’d traveled at the back of the caravan after Renly had calmed both Loras and Ygritte down enough to explain what was going on. Apparently the phantom shooters were members of Ygritte’s group of wanderers, and they had mistaken Loras and Renly for bandits. The shots fired were supposed to be ‘warnings’ shots, but Loras knew well enough they wouldn’t have been too upset had one found its way nestled in one of their skulls.

 As soon as that had been cleared, Ygritte told them to wander near the back of the caravan and wait until they stopped for the evening to go over whatever it was Renly was ‘trying to sell’. Not before she took their weapons, however, leaving Loras even more disgruntled with her. She hadn’t been too friendly with him in the beginning, and the tension only rose when she began making comments about how Loras was just a trussed up pretty boy who shouldn’t be pointing his gun at someone that actually knew how to use one.

 But anytime he so much as opened his mouth to retaliate, Renly would kick him or give him a look that told him not to do it. Not if he valued his life.

 “It was pretty damn loud,” Renly said, leaning back, propping himself up with his forearms. “And I am sure there are other things you could do with the money you get.”

 “How long will it take?” She began inspecting Loras’ handguns.

 Renly shrugged. “It’ll take two days to get to the town from where we are. A day to plan, and then a few days of waiting it out after the job itself—you know, just to make sure no lawmen are wandering around, tracking our trails.”

 “Is he coming?” She jerked his head toward Loras, making him bristle _. I have a name_ , he wanted to say, but instead he glared at her, Renly’s presence the only thing keeping him from taking his guns back and walking off.

 “Loras? Of course he is—he’s my new partner,” Renly drawled, nudging Loras with his knee. “He’s a good kid, Ygritte, and he knows how to shoot. You saw how quick he had his gun on you.”

 “Faster than a rattlesnake,” she agreed. Staring at Loras from across the fire, their eyes locked once more, neither saying anything. Not because Loras didn’t want to—he had a lot he could say to her—but because he knew not to shoot his mouth off in front of someone who currently had a large collection of ammunition around her. “Where are you from?” she finally asked.

 “Near Falls County,” he replied.

 “From a city?”

 “No, a ranch.”

 “One your family owned?”

 Loras gritted his teeth. “Yes.”

 “Did your family also buy you these pretty little guns of yours?”

 “Why does where my guns come from have to do with how well I can handle a job?”

 She shrugged and patted the pistol against her hand. “I don’t know—still trying to figure out why a rich pretty boy like yourself is running around here with an outlaw like Baratheon.”

 “Keep wondering, then.” Loras was not going to tell her more than she already knew. _She doesn’t deserve to know._

Ygritte’s eyes narrowed before she turned her attention back to Renly. “He’s prickly—I’d watch him,” she said. Tossing the guns back on to the bedroll, she stood and dusted herself off, small gloved hands doing nothing more than smearing the dust around on her chaps. “I’ll be back.”

 Both watched as Ygritte left, her hair reflecting the light from all the different fires in the area, every family in the caravan with their own cooking area, lighting everything up and making it look like a small village had formed almost out of nowhere. Eying his guns, Loras wondered if he’d be able to take them back without recourse, before Renly was rolling on to his side to star up at Loras.

 “She likes you.”

 Loras snorted. “How can you tell that?”

 “She hasn’t shot you. If anyone else was treating her the way you are, she’d have shot them had she not liked them just a little bit.” Renly stretched out on the grass, taking his hat off and resting it on his chest. Gazing up at the stars, he went silent, leaving Loras to stare at the guns across the way. He felt almost naked without them now, the heavy metal a comforting weight against his side and across his back.

 “Why’d she pull you off your horse?” Loras asked after a time, still staring at the guns.

 He heard a grunt. “Someone was going to take a shot at me. She was hiding in the bushes to counter attack but when she realized it was us, she saved me from getting shot in the head.”

 “I thought they were just sending warning shots,” Loras mumbled, glancing down at Renly.

 Renly returned the question with a blank stare, mouth straight and eyes dull. “If you believe that then you are in for a big surprise, Little Rose. People out here shoot to kill—plain and simple. We looked like a threat… Well, I do. You? Not so much.”

  Loras wanted to shove a pile of dirt into that grin of Renly’s, but instead he kicked his boot. Hard.

 “Hey now,” Renly mumbled, a pout appearing on his lips. “Don’t kick me.”

 “Don’t insult me.”

  “I wasn’t insulting you—just having a bit of fun.” Dropping the pout, Renly traded it for a smirk and poked Loras’ arm. “You just need to lighten up a bit, Loras.”

 Loras rolled his eyes and pulled away from Renly’s poking, wondering when Renly suddenly reverted back to the age of three. “It’s hard to when you keep reminding me I’m ‘in a new world’ and that there are sexual deviants and murderers and all sorts of degenerates lurking about, just waiting for their moment to strike.”

 “Oh… yeah. Sorry.” Renly clicked his tongue and turned his attention back to the stars. Loras kept his on Renly.

“It’s fine,” he said after a time, “It’s good to learn these lessons early. You know… before something bad happens.”

 Renly sat up quickly then, scaring Loras slightly, the sudden motion making him reach for the rifle that wasn’t there. But the fight instinct was quelled as soon as Renly was looking right at him, blocking his view of the fire as he kneeled before Loras. “You know how I said you’d given me no reason to trust you yet?” Loras nodded, caught up in the strength in Renly’s gaze. “Well you gave me a reason to trust you now. As soon as Ygritte touched me you were on it, pointing your gun on a person who you thought was going to harm me. No hesitation.”

 Renly reached out then, and placed his hand on Loras’ shoulder, tight against his neck, feeling the beat of his heart through the pad of his thumb pressed against his pulse. Loras felt like his heart was going to break through his ribs in that instance, the heat of Renly’s palm and the pressure of it multiplied as they stared at each other. Renly continued, a certain determination in his gaze. “Even though you didn’t save me from anything dangerous in the end, the fact that you were willing to shoot someone for me shows me just what you’re made of. I owe you, Loras. And if owing you means keeping you safe from the dangers out there, I’ll do it. You have my word.”

 Loras reached up to take Renly’s hand in his own, but instead of cradling it like he wanted to—instead of cupping it close and tangling their fingers—he twisted their hands around so that their palms were pressed together in a handshake. “And you have my word that I’ll keep pointing my gun at anyone who drags you off of horses,” he said, returning Renly’s smile as they shook hands.

  “Hey now, Baratheon. Keep your hand off the boy.” Ygritte’s voice broke the moment, and Renly ripped his hand away and looked over his shoulder, the loss of Renly’s heat noticeable in Loras’ hand. His palm tingled again.

 “We were having a moment,” Renly drawled, making Ygritte laugh—a rich, healthy sound that made Loras smile despite his better judgement.

 “Yeah, right,” Ygritte said, sitting down across from them. Renly moved to sit beside Loras once more, a little closer than he was before. Loras welcomed the shared heat. “I’ll be going with you, by the way. I had to speak to a few people, and some of them are none too happy that I’m leaving while we’re traveling through an area known for bandits, but the money calls us more than safety right now.”

 “Good.” Smiling, Renly nudged Loras gently with his elbow. “You get to travel with us for the next few days while we head to the town—Dry Gulch is its name, I think.”

  “Dry Gulch? You American’s need to come up with more prosperous names for your cities,” Ygritte remarked, pulling her hair back in a tight bun. “Who else will be coming with us?”

 “Pyp and Grenn, along with Greyjoy and Snow.”

 Ygritte’s smile grew even wider when Snow was mentioned, and Loras thought back to the conversation they’d had with Jon a few days previous. Ygritte did not seem as against his involvement if her chuckle was anything to go by. “Oh, Snow you say… I suppose I can put up with Greyjoy’s less than stellar track record with women if it means I get to see good ol’ Jon Snow again.”

 Renly sighed and shook his head, smiling. “I thought that might make you happy.”

XX

 If it was at all possible, Ygritte spoke more than Renly did.

 They left as soon as it was light enough, most of the caravan happy to see Renly and Loras leave, but not as pleased with the departure of one of their best scouts. Ygritte took her time saying goodbye, but when it came to riding off she didn’t look back, head held high as they cantered down the road toward Dry Gulch.

Much of the day was spent with Renly and Ygritte chatting away, seemingly distracted as they shared stories and caught up. But Loras recognized they were both on guard, knowing exactly what was going on around them the entire time. He just stayed slightly back from both of them, listening to the conversation and trying to fit together pieces from previous conversations he’d had that would make everything understandable. Most of it was just random names and events he’d never heard about, and would probably never hear about again. Still, it gave Loras time to watch Renly as he spoke with Ygritte, a grin on his face and a light in his eyes as they laughed and nattered on. He looked… happy. Relaxed and carefree, despite where they were and what they were going to do. Loras wondered very briefly if Renly and Ygritte had ever been intimate, but something told Loras that they were just good friends; companions and business partners.

 Only, their business was robbing.

 But as the day wore on even Renly started to lag in the conversation, and he soon pulled away from the two of them to go and scout up ahead, sure that they were close to the town and the meeting spot. Ygritte pulled her mare back then, and walked alongside with Loras, neither saying much.

 Loras still couldn’t say he liked the woman, but he was less wary around her. She’d given him his guns back with no further comment about where he’d gotten them, and had even complimented him on Daisy, once again with no animosity behind her words.

 Still, she had been terribly rude to him beforehand, and Loras wasn’t about to just let it all blow away in the wind.

 “So how long have you and Renly been traveling together for?” Ygritte asked after a time.

 She used his first name, Loras thought, a smile tugging at his lips. _Renly’s name sounds good with a Scottish accent._ “Two weeks, I believe.”

 Ygritte hummed then, a brow quirked. “Two weeks?” She sounded surprised.

 “Yes, two weeks. Maybe a few more days over that,” he replied, eying her. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

 She shrugged. “I don’t know… Renly just doesn’t usually let others travel with him—not for any long periods of time that is. A few days, maybe a week if you’re lucky… of unlucky, as the case may be. But never two weeks.”

  _Greyjoy was saying the same thing,_ Loras thought, _He seemed surprised if not a little jealous that I was traveling with Renly…_ “Why is that?” he asked slowly—carefully, almost.

 “I don’t know—you should ask him that. Just know that Renly is… a kind soul. Treat him well and trust him, and he’ll return the same courtesies, Loras.”

 Turning his attention to Renly up ahead, Loras watched him carefully, noting how his head was held high and his eyes narrowed, attention fixed solely on the road ahead and whatever lurked behind the hills and tree groves. Loras wondered what Renly had done throughout his life to survive—how he’d managed to keep everything going and in one piece. He also wondered what he’d been like before everything—before whenever he’d left home to forge his own path. Despite his businesslike approach and his continual assurance that he was a killer, there was still innocence there—friendliness and a willing to play that hadn’t completely left.

 Renly was a bit of an enigma and a contradiction. He seemed unwilling to hurt and yet killed men and women freely; he laughed as much as he sighed; he smiled as much as he frowned; and there was a sadness in his eyes that swirled openly along with good spirits and a love of life. The more Loras got to know Renly, the further he seemed to draw away from him. He was more a mystery to Loras than he was when they first met. In that alleyway he was nothing more than a shadow with the smile of a saint but the determination of the devil… Now he was the devil and the saint mixed up in one complex being—a being Loras both wanted to know more about, and yet at the same time almost feared to know too much.

 “You’ve gone silent.” Ygritte’s voice broke Loras from his musings, and he turned back to her, Renly having ridden Ricochet far enough ahead that Loras couldn’t make out the sharp angles of his features, his telescope in his hand, the bronze glittering in the sunlight.

 “I was thinking,” he said, watching a red, twisted curl fall out of her messy bun to tickle across her ear. “So… when did you learn to shoot?”

 “Since I was a child—why, are you not used to seeing a woman in charge?” she asked, a smirk on her lips. Loras returned it.

 “My sister learned along with me, but she was never one for the violence or the bruise the kick-back of a rifle could leave. She decided she’d much rather defend herself with her words and perceived innocence,” he drawled out. It was getting easier to speak about his family the longer he was away. But the tightness in his throat was still there.

  “You have a sister? And where is she now?”

 “Somewhere,” Loras said. He supposed he could have his own mysteries, too. Ygritte seemed to agree.

 “Alright, Loras, I’ll let you keep some things to yourself. But just you wait—first saloon we come to and I’ll treat you to a few shots of whiskey. A fresh boy like you will be singing a pretty tune for me once you’ve had about… two shots, I’d say.”

“Is that a challenge?” Loras asked, his smirk matching Ygrittes.

XX

 The meeting spot was reached shortly after nightfall. They’d rode under the moonlight, Loras watching the shadows their horses’ legs made across the hills and the dusty road. They didn’t speak much once the light had gone down, but Loras had managed to get the telescope from Renly, fiddling with it for much of the journey, excited to have it finally in his grasp after admiring it for days.

 They slowed as they approached the spot, an old abandoned farm house half a day’s ride from Dry Gulch. There was a light coming from inside two of the rooms, the windows bright and inviting. Ygritte made a disgruntled sound and mumbled about how it was an obvious beacon, but Renly paid it little mind and continued on his way, kicking Ricochet into a fast trot as they neared. Loras realized someone was resting near the door, their shadowy figure a large lump near the entrance, the glitter of the barrel of a gun visible to the trained eye, but they made little move to stop the approach, causing Ygritte to let out another unimpressed ‘tsk’ from beside him.

 “Nice guarding, Grenn,” Loras could hear Renly say as he arrived before them, sliding off of Ricochet as he continued to trot forward. Loras saw Renly kick Grenn’s boot hard, causing the man to let out a holler. “Next time stay the fuck awake.”

 As Ygritte and Loras neared they heard Grenn mumble a half-hearted ‘fuck you’ as he stood, legs wobbling as he attempted to get his bearings. “I’ve been riding all night and day to get here and they put me right on guard duty,” he complained, rolling his shoulders back. His attention was fixed on Renly, but immediately turned toward Loras and Ygritte as they hopped off their horses and hitched them to the rotting post. Loras wondered if it would withstand even the tug of a butterfly, it was so decayed.

 “If a little riding tires you out, maybe you’re in the wrong line of business,” Ygritte cooed, patting Grenn’s cheek as she headed into the house. Loras trailed behind, hanging back behind Renly, eying the new man. Oddly enough, he received a genuine smile right away—a rarity, it seemed.

 “You must be Loras,” Grenn said, easily ignoring Ygritte’s words. Stepping forward, he extended his hand for a shake. Rough and large, his hand was firm, and Loras suspected he made a living using his hands in some form.

 “And you’re Grenn, I presume,” Loras replied, tipping his hat to the man. “I heard about you.” A lie.

  “Oh you did? What did you hear?” Loras was about to make up some stories, the eagerness in his gaze infectious, but Renly saved him before he had to, patting Grenn’s shoulder and nodding his head towards the door.

 “You go inside and get some actual sleep—we’ll be in in a bit.” Grenn nodded and picked up his rifle, opening the door where Ygritte’s and Greyjoy’s voices boomed above the rest. As soon as the door was closed Renly turned to Loras, face hidden by shadows. “I have something for you.”

 Quirking a brow, Loras tried to see Renly’s face, shifting from side to side. He couldn’t catch a glimpse. “What is it?”

 Renly reached into his back pocket and pulled something out from it, passing it to Loras. Taking it in his hands, he looked down at the soft piece of material that lay folded up on his palm. “A bandana—you’re going to need one to cover your face with if you come to this heist,” Renly explained as Loras unfolded it.

 “I can’t see the colour,” he said, heading toward one of the windows to cast light upon it. It was a soft green, and it shone slightly when the light hit it just right—a golden colour lying underneath the green tones. It looked expensive, and felt expensive as well. “It’s beautiful… where did you get it?”

 “Back in Dutch Creek before we left. I saw it and I thought of you—it’s green like the petals of a rose.”

 Turning around, Loras was surprised to see Renly had moved in so close, the brims of their hats knocking together gently. He could see Renly’s face now, all light up from the lights inside, casting sharp shadows across the lines of his cheeks and the curve under his bottom lip. He was smiling softly, making no move to give Loras any space as he tugged at the scarf. _He looks striking in the light_ … Loras thought, letting the scarf go without qualms. Folding the scarf, Renly reached around Loras’ shoulders, placing the scarf around his neck, tying the ends together in a tight knot. Fiddling with it, he stuffed the ends under the collar of Loras’ shirt, fingertips ticking any exposed skin they could reach.

 Loras held his breath the entire time, gaze fixated on Renly’s lips, not daring to look in his eyes—for what reasons, he wasn’t sure. He could feel Renly’s breath against his skin, and leaned in just a touch, smelling the scent of tobacco and that signature peppermint, a pleasant combination.

  _I wonder what it would taste like if I—_

Renly pulled away then, stepping back in on the rotting porch just as Loras lurched backward and away from him, the realization that he was going in for _something_ making him spook. “You look just like a real outlaw!” Renly declared loudly, seemingly unaffected by whatever had taken place. Reaching up to touch the scarf, Loras fiddled with the edge, swallowing the spit that had collected in the back of his throat.

 “I’d ask to see myself in a mirror, but I’d fear for what I’d see. I’m not used to being covered in days’ worth of dirt,” he said, surprised his voice was coming out so steady while his heart seemed determined to claw its way out of his throat.

 “Don’t say that—you look good with a bit of grime on you,” Renly said, once again reaching out to touch Loras, thumb wiping a bit of dirt off of his cheek. A part of Loras wanted to shove Renly away—to tell him to stop touching him because he wasn’t sure what he was feeling and _why_ he was feeling this way. But he stayed still as his cheek was caressed gently, Renly’s eyes softening further, tugging a curl.

 “Thank you,” Loras said, letting Renly play with a curl as if it was a toy. Normally he never let anyone touch his hair. Normally he never let anyone get too close. Normally he never felt like this.

 But this wasn’t normal. None of this was normal. Standing on a porch in the middle of nowhere, with a wanted criminal playing with his hair after giving him an expensive token of affection—there was nothing normal about this.

 And yet Loras embraced it, and gently slapped Renly’s hand away, once again finding his feet. “You have a thing for my hair?” he asked, and for once it was Renly’s turn to blush.

 “It’s just really lovely—it’s like Ygritte’s only tamer and less… red.”

 “Why not go pet her hair, then?” he asked.

 “She doesn’t let me. Besides, she doesn’t lean into the touch like you do—you’re like a little kitten,” Renly teased, and Loras had no choice but to shove him off the porch.


	10. All For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own them and I am not making money off of them
> 
> Warning: Violence/Gun Violence
> 
> Authors Note: Oh hey, we actually get some action this time!

 “I’m sitting with the fucking horses?”

 Loras had tried to be patient and Loras had tried to listen and follow through with the orders given to him. After all, he wasn’t the expert—he was the young rich boy from a cattle ranch who ran away from home and knew nothing about the real world. Loras nodded along and went with the assumptions placed upon him, not wanting to step out of line, especially when Renly was being kind and guiding him along.

 But he would not stand for being left on the outskirts with the horses while all the action happened without him.

 “Loras, don’t look at me that way,” Renly said, practically whining as the rest of Renly’s rag-tag group of misfits watched the confrontation around the rickety old table.

 “I’m not sitting with the horses, Renly,” Loras said, arms crossed over his chest _. How am I supposed to prove myself by minding the horses?_

 “Look, I know you want to get right in on the action, and I completely admire that, but you haven’t even seen a heist. You need to see what happens before you go into it, because we can’t have you spooking—“

 “I won’t spook!” Loras shot out, not letting Renly finish. Uncrossing his arms, he stood, bracing his hands on the table, fingers spread across the makeshift map of the town. “You know as well as I do that I can shoot better than most of your men.”

 “Hey now!” Greyjoy stood up then, imitating Loras’ position against the table while everyone else glared at Loras. “Baratheon said you’re minding the horses and if you have a problem with that then too bad. No need to start spouting off lies to make yourself seem competent.”

 Loras wanted to strike Greyjoy—he wanted to reach across the table and slam his head into the table. Instead, he challenged him. “If you think I’m lying about my shooting, why don’t we test it? You and me, out in the field with some targets up ahead.”

 Greyjoy paused, obviously not expecting Loras to challenge him to a shooting competition. His eyes flicked over to Renly’s for a moment, but Renly’s eyes were trained on Loras, mouth tight.

 “Fine, we’ll have a competition. But we need some higher stakes rather than honour,” Greyjoy said, trying to get his bearings back once more and control the conversation. “If I win and have a better shot then you, you have to give me… your horse. The palomino.”

 Loras would have balked at the thought of someone taking Daisy, and had Ygritte or even Renly challenged him he probably would have backed down—as much as he would loath to do it. But this was Greyjoy, and although Loras knew little of the man, that did not stop him from wanting to knock him down a few pegs.

 “And if I win?”

 “You get to keep your head—Loras can we please talk for a moment?” Renly interjected. He didn’t even wait for a reply and grabbed Loras’ arm, yanking him away from the table and outside of the house. Stumbling off of the porch, Loras whipped around as soon as they were outside, glaring.

 “What was that for?”

 “What did I tell you, Loras?” Renly asked. Following Loras off of the porch, he stepped right into his personal space again, hand wrapping around his arm. “You said you’d do what I told you—you said you’d let me protect you. Demanding to go into a robbery without having even seen one and then shooting your mouth off in front of men who would kill you in a second if I wasn’t there, isn’t what I would call listening to me and respecting my experience.”

 “Well what am I doing here, then? You said I could come along and learn your ways and how to do things properly, so why _are_ you pushing me off to the side? I highly doubt sitting with the fucking horses is gonna teach me anything about robbing banks or fucking morality!” His voice was rising, the tension between them mounting. Renly’s hand was getting tighter around Loras’ arm, but Loras refused to wince as the pressure increased, Renly’s jaw tight and eyes narrowed. He just kept staring back, breathing heavy and chin lifted, trying to hold his own.

 Finally Renly let go, but he didn’t walk away or make any move to give Loras any space. He just stayed pressed in close, using his slightly larger stature to his advantage. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, Loras. You can’t just go into this without any experience. You’d be putting everyone’s life on the line because we’d be too busy worried about you.”

 “Then don’t worry about me! Do what you have to do but don’t leave me off to the side!” Loras cried out, frustrated and angry and _tired_. “I don’t know what I’m asking for because you won’t show me. Goddamn it, Renly—why are you treating me like I’m some piece of China?”

 “Because you haven’t proven yourself,” Renly replied.

 Loras shook his head and let out a snort. Reaching down, he plucked his revolver out of his right holster. Renly’s eyes grew wide as he watched Loras lift the weapon upward, but before he could even make a move—before he could even shout—Loras was turning around, feet positioned perfectly and back straight as a rod, gun poised in front of him. Aiming at a tree, he shot at the trunk, marking his target with one bullet before shooting at the original mark—again and again until the chamber was empty. Twirling the gun around his finger, he shoved it back in its holder. His hand twitched, wanting to grab the other revolver and empty its chamber on the poor scraggly (and now bullet ridden) tree, but the anger was leaving him as each second passed.

 He needed that. Once again the urge to fight had taken over, but solace and relaxation was found in the chambers of his weapons.

 “You calm now?” Renly asked. He was still close, and Loras could feel his aura press against his back. Turning around, he peered at Renly under the sun. He didn’t look too happy with Loras, but much of the immediate anger seemed to have left. But behind him stood the rest of the gang, all five of them huddled around the door, hands poised over their own guns as they waited to see what was going to happen.

_They probably think one of us shot the other_ , Loras mused briefly. Suddenly, pulling out his gun didn’t seem like the best idea, no matter how much it soothed him.

 “Yeah, I’m calm,” he mumbled, gaze flicking back to Renly. Renly nodded, reaching out to pat Loras’ arm gently.

 “Don’t you ever pull a gun out like that again,” he said, tugging one of Loras’ curls before turning around, waving at the rest of them on the porch. “It’s all good!” he told them, voice louder.  

They all seemed less than impressed, numerous eyes still fixated on Loras as he stood out in the sun, jaw clenched and a pout on his lips.

XX

 Sitting on Daisy, Loras watched the bank from a distance.

 No matter how much he tried to convince Renly that he was ready and he should be a part of this, Renly wasn’t having any of it. And unfortunately for Loras, his little fit with the gun had done little to get any support from the rest of the gang members. Ygritte was the only one who had smiled at him all yesterday, and even then she couldn’t help but make a few remarks about ‘knowing your place’ and ‘remember what I told you about Renly’. 

 He has a simple job. When the signal was released (which was one of them running out of the bank and shooting up in the air), he was supposed to lead the horses over quickly so they could all hop on and get out of there. Allowing the horses to roam around after they’d robbed the place was a recipe for disaster.  A loss of a horse, whether by it wandering off or getting shot, was not something they could afford to have happen in such a high stress situation.

 And so Loras sat and watched, waiting as screams and shouts were heard from inside the bank, most people staying clear of the building and hiding out in the local saloon or convenient store. A few of the lawmen had come around short moments ago, but were denied access when Ygritte shot one in the leg and the other in the arm, both of them collapsing at the entrance, weeping from the pain and the shock.

 Loras couldn’t say he was too upset for them. Most gangs would have probably shot them dead. At least now they stood a chance of surviving another day. But that didn’t take away from the sounds they made as they were hit, the bullets ripping through their muscles and bone. Loras didn’t think he’d be able to forget the first cry of agony he’d ever heard…

 Observing the lawmen out on the porch attempting to help each other, Loras felt a pang of guilt, one he tried to squash down. He’d been doing that a lot, all morning spent sitting and waiting and going through what he was about to take part of.

 He remembered his father’s speeches on cattle thieves. Remembered how he’d go on about how thieves and murderers were the lowest of low and how he was glad that his family had never had to stoop that far down. Of course his Grandmother would then remind him that it wasn’t too long ago that slavery was still allowed where they lived, and how although they never had slaves work the farms, their family had history dealing with men who did. Still, Loras knew his family would be disappointed in what he was doing, and no amount of excuses would quell that realization. He was going against his faith and his family by just sitting and watching.

 And yet here he was. Sitting, watching, and waiting for that signal. Waiting to help out a roaming gang of misfits who did everything his father was against.

 The thing was, Loras wasn’t sure if he was feeling guilty about what he was doing, or if he was feeling guilty for _not_ feeling guilty for what he was doing. It was making him feel twisted up inside, wondering where his morals and faith and old life fit in with everything. He asked for this—he wanted to be included and knew what was involved. To shy away from it now was a sign of weakness, and besides, Loras didn’t _want_ to shy away from it.

 Despite the guilt and despite being so far removed from the action, Loras felt a rush deep inside his soul that he hadn’t felt before. It was exciting watching things unfold, even though he still resented the fact that he wasn’t included and that there were two men bleeding out before him in front of the bank.

 Tugging his bandana further up his nose, Loras’ hand stayed poised over the handle of his revolver, keeping an eye out for anyone who could muddy things up. Renly had tried to convince Loras that he was actually doing a great deal of good being the look-out, but they both knew it was a lie. The town was small and relatively unimportant; the two lawmen who were shot were the only help the bank would get.

 Loras had no idea how long it took for a robbery to take place, but it seemed like it was done in a matter of minutes, familiar covered faces clambering out of the bank, followed by a shot in the air—loud and clear with a white plume of smoke trailing behind. Kicking Daisy into a trot, the horses he had on reign followed behind, most of them used to this sort of train.

 But as he neared and the gang ran toward him, bags in their hands and hollering their successes, Loras kept his eye on the man trailing behind—Renly. Loras couldn’t help but smile as he drew closer, eyes bright and eager—the only part of his face showing as the bandana covered the lower half while the shadows of his hat did the rest. But Loras’ smile fell from his face in an instance as the shine of a gun and the subtle movement of a downed man caught his attention.

 Loras couldn’t even think—couldn’t even see anything by the rising of the pistol in the grasp of the shaky lawman, fingers coating in blood that Loras could see more clearly as Daisy neared and the dust had begun to settle. Hand sliding down to his own revolver, the cool metal glided into his palm with ease, and Loras raised the gun just as the man set his sight on Renly’s back.

 There was a split second in which everything seemed to freeze for Loras. The movement of Daisy underneath him, the shouts and roars in the air--even the beat of his heart—all of it stopped.

_It’s just like shooting the flowers off of cacti,_ Loras thought as he pulled the trigger with no hesitation.

 Blood blossomed against the wall of the bank in an instant, the pistol in the man’s hand dropping, the heavy sound of it hitting the wooden porch almost deafening despite the commotion around him. Loras felt like it was the loudest thing he’d ever heard in his life.

 And everything came rushing back as soon as the pistol dropped.

 The heat from the sun kissed earth, the yelling and the panic, the echo of the shot that resonated about the town, and the near _scream_ one of the horses let out at the sudden commotion—it all hit him in one blast, making him want to heave his meager breakfast up. But he pushed the sudden nausea aside, and instead of vomiting he began to shake, teeth chattering and fingers twitching despite the heat of the sun above him. Putting the gun back into its holster with trembling fingers, Loras almost slipped off of Daisy, legs weak as his gaze stayed locked on the bloody smear on the wall. He wanted to look away, and yet he _couldn’t_. He could feel hands on him soon after, and he wasn’t sure who was grabbing him, trying to holding him up, but he pushed them away and slid off of Daisy on his own accord, lips tight and teeth gritted together as he tried to stop them from chattering.

  “Loras…. Loras.” Strong hands grabbed his shoulders as he leaned against Daisy’s neck, her presence doing nothing to sooth him—a terrifying thought, one that made him panic even more. But just as he thought he’d lost it— just as he felt his world slipping away—his gaze was ripped away from the wall of the bank and directed to wide blue eyes staring at him, framed by black hair and a bright yellow bandana. “Get back on the horse, Loras—we need to leave,” Renly ordered.

 Loras nodded, still shaking, the realization of what he’d just done having not yet set in despite his body’s reaction. It was all too abstract in thought, and he let Renly help him back on to Daisy, everyone else around them inconsequential to the touch of Renly’s hands on his arm and the glitter of the pistol that could have taken Renly away, lying on the porch in a pool of blood.

They rode off in a hurry, Loras staring at the horn on his saddle, the tooling of the roses against the saddle far off and distant.  As they rode further the beat in his heart becoming noticeable once more—the numbness gone with every slam of Daisy’s hooves on the packed earth. He had no idea how long they rode for or where they were going, not wanting to _think_ or _feel_ or do anything for fear of what he might discover about what just happened. Discover what he just did and _why_ he just did it.

 When they finally stopped Renly’s hands were on his leg and arm almost immediately, helping him off of Daisy with a tenderness Loras hadn’t felt since he’d hugged his sister goodbye. Renly was telling everyone to go inside as he assisted Loras, no one seeing fit to argue as they did what they were told. Renly’s hands were reassuring and strong and _alive_ andLoras literally clung to him as they stood between their horses. Renly’s free hand roughly grabbed Loras’ bandana and yanked it downward, freeing his nose and mouth, air filling his lungs while a sudden headache slammed in between his brows.  He felt like his head was going to split in two, but the press of Renly’s warm, gloved palm kept him from falling down, the pain intensifying.

 “God, Little Rose, you’re trembling,” Renly mumbled, his own bandana removed, revealing his worried face to Loras. “What did you—I mean… Loras, why did you?”

 Staring into Renly’s eyes, Loras found the clarity he needed in that instance. Vision no longer swimming and attention no longer wavering, Loras got lost in his gaze, the strength in it mixed with the anxiety clearing Loras’ mind enough for him to remember why he’d done it. Why he _killed_ his first man.  

 “For you,” he whispered, grasping Renly’s wrist. “I did it for you.”

XX

 Loras could hear the lively conversation through the walls of the old house, breaking the peace he’d tried to find out in the field. It was late and the bottle of whiskey had come out, everyone celebrating the success of the heist, joy in their hearts and bragging rights in the palm of their hands.

 Loras had left as soon as the revelry had started, unable to stand the looks he was receiving from everyone. All of them were staring at him; expecting something from him. Wondering if he was going to start to panic or cry or vomit or do whatever it was that someone did after they’d killed a person. A few had decided to share their own stories of their first kill, with Snow going as far as to describe what patterns the blood made in the crisp white fabric of the man’s shirt as the bullet ripped through his heart.

 Thing was, their stories didn’t comfort Loras—they didn’t make him feel as if he could relate to them at all. They all killed to save themselves or because someone was in their way. They killed to win or to survive and to live another day only to kill for another day. It was a dog eat dog world, and it was kill or be killed. And every single one of them finished their tale off with some variant of ‘I had no choice’.

 But Loras had a choice. He didn’t have to shoot the man. He wasn’t threatening his life, after all. He was going after someone else. But he had threatened _Renly_. Had it been anyone else and Loras would have probably faltered. He wouldn’t have automatically reached for the gun and he wouldn’t have pulled that trigger as if he was shooting at tin cans on fence posts. He’d have probably let the man kill any one of them.

 But not Renly.

 The scariest thing was, was that it had come so _easy_ for Loras. After everything was done; after Renly had calmed him down and he’d drunk some water and rested, Loras was able to think. He was able to comprehend what had happened. And instead of shying away and panicking—instead of feeling guilty or feeling remorse for what he’d done—all he could feel was pride and relief because Renly was still here with him. Renly was alive and breathing and drinking too much whiskey because he’d pulled that trigger without a moment of hesitation.

 Renly was alive because of him.

 And that was all Loras could think about when he saw the blood smear across the bank wall whenever he closed his eyes.

 But that was what made Loras nervous and on edge, fingers clutching a small cross he kept in his pocket for moments of prayer. It was supposed to rest on a necklace, the pendant made of silver that would warm when he cupped it in his hand. He had been praying less and less since he left the ranch, the need for it never having come up. But now that he’d killed a man and felt no remorse for it was wearing away at him, fingers sliding up and down the pendant as he prayed to God for forgiveness. Forgiveness for what he’d done and forgiveness for what he was going to do.

 He didn’t know if God was listening, but as he asked for forgiveness for what seemed like the hundredth time, the smell of tobacco hit Loras’ nose as he sat out in the field, followed by the crunch of grass underneath worn boots.  

 “You doing okay, Little Rose?”

 Loras sighed, slipping the pendant back into his pocket. “Yeah, I suppose.”

 He didn’t look over as Renly sat down beside him, still staring straight ahead at the roving hills beyond. He could see the embers of the cigarette out of the corner of his eye, bright and vibrant in the darkness. “You still drinking that water I gave you? You were pretty dehydrated this afternoon.”

 “Yes… thank you,” he said. Renly’s breath smelled of whiskey and tobacco, but he didn’t seem affected by the drink, sitting still and in control, fingers loosely linked together in his lap. Loras looked down to stare at his hands, remembering how they felt against his arms and legs earlier that day—remembering the comfort they had brought him.

 He wished he could ask Renly to hold him again; hug him like his sister used to whenever he thought things were getting too hard and he needed someone to ground him and just pet his hair. But he wasn’t a little boy anymore and Renly wasn’t Margaery, and so he did not ask.

 “You want to talk about something?” Renly asked after a time, taking the cigarette out of his mouth, letting the smoke curl around their heads. “I know the conversation was getting sort of rough in there for you. They—I mean, everyone didn’t mean to upset you. They were just trying to make you feel better because they know what it’s like…”

_No, they don’t._

 “It’s fine—I know they meant no harm by it,” Loras mumbled.  Leaning back slightly, he braced his hands on the dirt behind him and kicked his feet out, knocking his boots together. “Do they at least trust me more?”

 Renly laughed slightly. “Yeah, they do. You saved me—I think that’s worth something.”

 “And does this mean you trust me more—enough to come to the next heist and actually be a part of it?” he asked, hope leaking into his voice.

 “It does… I’m still worried, though.”

 “About what?” Loras asked, turning toward Renly, staring at his profile and how the moon highlighted the strong line of his nose.

 Renly didn’t look at Loras as he replied, gaze fixated on a random point in the sky. “I don’t know… I just feel a need to… well, I know you’re going to hate me when I say this, but I feel like I need to protect you, you know…?”

 Loras smiled, the first genuine one he’d made all day. It made him feel normal again.

 Loras _did_ know what it felt like to want to protect someone. And now Loras knew all too well what that need could make a person do. It could make a man lie, cheat, steal… and kill. And for some reason, all of that was okay with Loras, so long as it was done to protect Renly. Renly may have thought he had to defend Loras, but Loras didn’t follow him around for that. Loras didn’t urge Renly to let him travel with him and have him take him up north because he needed protection. He didn’t even ask him to take him because he desired adventure like he thought he did.

 No, Loras wanted to go with Renly and Loras stayed with Renly and Loras cherished Renly’s smiles, because Loras wanted to protect Renly. Not the other way around. He wanted to shelter him from the ills in the world, because if he didn’t, Loras feared he’d lose that little bit of sunshine Renly offered him when he so much as smiled.

 And Loras would not stand to see Renly lose that silly little grin.

 That was how he justified his first death and that would be how he’d justify all the others that followed. For Renly and his smile.

 “Yeah, I know the feeling,” he said, reaching out to pluck the smoke from Renly’s lips. Renly finally looked at him then, a brow raised as Loras fiddled with the thin strip of tobacco. “So, how do you smoke one of these?”


	11. Comfort in a Thunderstorm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters below, GRRM and perhaps Rockstar does
> 
> Warning: None
> 
> Authors Note: Time skip! And a bit of relationship development between our two boys-- a relationship that is only gong to get a little more heated as time goes by. Also, totally stole the Snakeoil Salesman from Rockstar's Red Dead Redemption game.

 “Would you please stop pointing that gun in my face?”

 “Would you please stop talking?”

 “I-It’s not that I wouldn’t love to do ask you ask, sir, it’s just that I really have to wonder why you’ve decided to target me of all people. I-I’m just a salesman, attempting to profit by doing a bit of honest work.”

 Loras’ eyes flicked to the side of the wagon, a brow raised. “Selling tonics that are supposed to cure the blind is honest work?” he asked, returning his attention to the man kneeling on the ground, hands locked behind his head and sweat beading down his forehead.

 “But they work! And they do more than cure the blind—why, my tonics—” _Click_. The man silenced as soon as Loras cocked his revolver, the barrel steady and strong as it stayed pointed right between the man’s eyes.

 “Stop talking.”

 The man did as he was told, but the glare Loras received told him he did not appreciate being silenced. Loras knew snakeoil salesmen well enough; a few of them had even come to his old home, trying to sell the ranch hands their famous tonics. By the end of it none of the salesmen would come around for fear of being shot by one of the Tyrell boys. The first time a few of their men had been fooled into buying an elixir had been amusing, but after everyone realized the elixirs were nothing but fool’s gold, something had to be done. And so they were told to go away with a shotgun in hand.

 “Uh, is your partner almost done rummaging through my things?”

 The silence Loras had asked for was not something that lasted very long, it seemed.

 “He’ll take as long as he wants,” Loras drawled out, not willing to admit he was getting antsy as well, waiting for Renly to finish up his exploration of the large stage-coach. “You’re lucky we’re the ones who decided to rob.”

 “A-And may I ask why, sir?”

 “Most outlaws would just shoot you for talking so much.” Once again the man was silent, and the two stayed out under the blistering sun, listening to the creak of the coach and the clink of bottles. The bandana around Loras’ face was becoming hot and itchy, but he didn’t dare move from his spot, hand raised and gun pointed at the salesman. He didn’t figure the man would fight back too much, but then again, Loras had received a rather painful black eye last time he figured someone wasn’t going to be too much of a threat.

 He still hadn’t gotten over getting hit by a lady bank teller back in Arkansas.

 “Honestly, I’m sure if you just tried a tonic--” Loras was about to slam the butt of his pistol against the man’s nose when Renly popped out from the back of the wagon, holding a sack in his hand, eyes bright. Loras knew he was grinning from ear to ear behind his bandana.

 “Look what I found,” he said, passing the sack to Loras. Taking it, he opened the bag up to find it stuffed with an assortment of bills and coins. “The little devil had most of it stashed in a secret compartment. Obviously it wasn’t secret enough, though.” Winking at the man on the ground, Renly tipped his hat to him. “It was a pretty good place to hide it, though. Most men wouldn’t search under the wooden boards up against the seats.”

 The man shrugged. He looked rather pleased with himself. “One never knows what sorts of men will be lurking about. I’m just glad I was robbed by a clever man.”

 Rolling his eyes, Loras passed the sack back to Renly and returned the barrel of his gun to its previous position between the salesman’s eyebrows.

 “There was a nice rifle in there, too,” Renly said, “Did you want it?”

 “No, I’ve got one already—no need to carry around too many weapons.”

 Nodding, Renly let out a satisfied sigh and returned his attention to the hostage. “Well, it was a pleasure robbing you, sir.”

 “I wish I could say the same,” the man replied, squinting up at the two of them. His eyes flicked down to Renly’s belt buckle for a moment, and in that instance recognition blossomed in his eyes. “A-Although you… you two do look familiar. Have I seen you before? Wait, you two are all over the wanted posters. The Rose and the Sta—” This time Loras did punch the man.

 Collapsing on to the dirt, the man let out a howl of pain, blood pooling out from his nose, bloodying up his fingers as he tried to stop the bleeding. Loras had probably broken his nose, but he cared little for that, hoping the pain would remind him not to say a thing about who had just robbed him.

 “No, you don’t recognize us,” Loras said, swinging up on top of Daisy without a second glance. Shoving his pistol away, he waited for Renly to get up on Ricochet, the two of them kicking their mounts into a fast trot, leaving the salesman to pick himself up.

 Ripping his bandana off his face as they rode further away, Loras noticed Renly was speeding up, distancing himself from Loras as they traveled down the path. Glancing over his shoulder, Renly sent Loras a wicked grin and a wink, and then nudged Ricochet off into a full gallop.

 _It’s a race then, is it?_ Returning the smirk, he pushed Daisy to go faster, more than willing to charge down the well-worn path in order to beat Renly. Catching up, Loras matched their paces for a moment, giving Renly enough time to look over and see they’d already caught up, before he let out a holler, Daisy surging forward, the two of them overcoming Renly and Ricochet with ease.

 Daisy loved to run—it was in her blood. Loras felt entirely free and alive when he was atop her as she thundered down the path, white mane blowing in the wind, powerful legs thrusting forward and slamming down on to the ground again and again. Her gate was smooth and even, even when she was working all of her muscles as fast and as hard as they could go, Loras riding on top, legs lifting him up so he felt like he was just coasting along.

 There was nothing like it.

  Sometimes Loras found it hard to stop her once she got going, too wild to slow as she let go after being roped down and told to go at an easy pace. Willas warned Loras one day she might break if she kept going on like she did, and that he had to keep control of her lest she damage herself. Loras surmised she was as much a free spirit as he was, and that if they could they’d run to the end of the earth and jump off together, right into the stars.

 But to the nearest grove of trees was enough for Loras today.

 Slowing her down, he looked over his shoulder to see Renly had slowed Ricochet down, too, the two of them coming up at a fast trot, the ride a little bumpy as Ricochet lazily tossed his head, shaking off the dust.

 “Your horse is going to get you killed one day—he’s far too relaxed for this business,” Loras said, hopping off of Daisy as the stopped just outside the grove, the place of their campsite from the night before.

 “His stomach is just full,” Renly explained, leading Ricochet over to a log where he tied him up. Loras did the same and immediately snatched the bag of stolen goods from Renly’s hand as he approached. “You can’t expect a horse to run on a full stomach.”

 “Stop making excuses for him,” Loras said, patting Ricochet’s blanketed rump as he passed by and went to sit on a log in the shade. Taking his hat off, he rested it beside him and ran a hand through his curls, shaking them out as he opened the bag with the other hand and started sifting through it. There were a lot of paper bills and coins, and a few trinkets that could be sold for some coin.

 “Did you get anything off the guy?” Renly asked, crouching down in front of Loras.

 Nodding, he reached into one of the pockets on his vest and tossed him a gold ring. “The only thing of value on him, really. I don’t think it was a wedding band or anything, so I don’t feel too pressed about taking it.”

 “Since when have you ever been pressed about taking some man’s gold?” Renly teased, inspecting the ring with a critical eye. He hummed a bit, Loras watching him careful, wanting to know if listening to the man’s whining as he took the ring was worthwhile or not. The grin spreading across Renly’s face was proof enough. “This is the real deal, Loras. We can trade it in for some good money when we need it.”

Reaching out, Renly locked his hand around the back of Loras’ neck and brought him in so their foreheads knocked together, both of them unable to stop grinning. “Glad it was worth it,” Loras replied, enjoying how Renly’s fingers tangled in his curls of their own accord. Pulling away slightly, Loras reached up and brushed Renly’s bangs from his forehead, tugging a lock gently. “We should go into town and get some supplies before we head out.”

 “I agree. We’ve got a long road ahead of us.”

 “We’re heading up North, right?”

 Renly paused as he moved to stand up, a flash in his eyes that told Loras whatever he was going to say would be a lie. “Yeah, soon.”

 Sighing, Loras stood as well, picking his hat up and shoving it on roughly. “Right… soon.”

 How many times had he heard that? It had been a long while since Renly promised to take Loras up north, and since then an even longer list of excuses had piled up as to why they never went up north. South, west and east were traveled freely. But north? Never. Something about the north worried Renly—Loras saw it in his eyes whenever it was discussed, the good mood that he always seemed to have disappearing as quick as smoke in the air.

 Loras didn’t complain though. At least, not yet… He was determined to go north eventually—with or without Renly.

 “We need to go back down near Mexico for a bit to settle that debt we have with Greyjoy before we move on.” An excuse Loras had heard before a million times, too.

 “Which debt would that be?” Untying Daisy, he got up and waited for Renly to answer, watching him tie the bag to his saddle with deliberate motions, taking his time with it.

 “He helped us out of that squabble with that Dothraki tribe a few months ago, remember? Where we almost got shot for some misunderstanding, but Grejoy knew one of the white men in the group… what was his name again?”

 “Jorah,” Loras said, leading Daisy to the path, Renly trailing behind.

 “Right, well because he talked the guy into explaining the rather precarious situation we were in, we weren’t shot and strung up by our necks on a tree. We owe Greyjoy for that.”

 “And how are we going to repay him?” Loras asked, wondering if money would be enough. Greyjoy liked to lord things over their heads at times—especially Loras’.

 “He needs help with a particularly difficult bank heist.”

 “Why is this one so hard?” Renly shrugged, eyes wandering away to look off in the distance. A common thing he did when he didn’t want to talk further—he pretend to be interested in the grass or cacti or whatever happened to be around them at the time. Today it appeared the sky was the most interesting thing.

 Sighing, the good mood that had given them a buzz quickly left, and they rode in silence until reaching the small town, a general store right in the middle. Entering the store, Renly went ahead and began collecting supplies while Loras meandered around the place, inspecting random items as Renly chatted with the clerk, keeping his head bowed and voice low so as not to attract too much attention.

 Their names were all over the lower half of Texas, faces drawn on to Wanted posters and bounties placed on their heads. While they hadn’t entered the zone in which they were most wanted, they were getting close, and their faces were easily recognizable, as evident by the salesman’s remark before Loras had gently reminded him that he didn’t know who they were.

 Eying a can of peaches, Loras debated buying one of the expensive delicacies for Renly, when a calendar on the wall caught his eye. Approaching it, he noticed the month—June.

 “Excuse me, sir,” Loras said, turning around to look at the clerk, both the clerk and Renly pausing what they were doing. “Is this the right date?”

 The man nodded, pushing his round spectacles up his nose. “Yes sir, it is.”

 Nodding his thanks, he returned his attention to the calendar, staring at the number 24.

 It had almost been a year since he’d run away from home. Almost a year since he found his best friend who would decide to change his life completely. Almost a year since he’d shot his first man and robbed his first bank, and finally discovered what it was like to _live_.

 Scratching the back of his neck, he sighed, wondering where the time had gone.

 “You read to go?” Renly asked, resting his hand on Loras’ shoulder. Nodding, Loras turned around and took some of the items from Renly, helping him carry the things out to the horses.

 That was when the lightening cracked and the skies opened up.

 “Fuck!” Renly roared, jumping as a second strike went off in the distance, lighting up the sky. Clouds moved fast in the prairies and desert, which made for interesting weather. Where once the sky could be clear and blue, in a matter of minutes it could be covered in a blanket of black with rain pouring down.

 “I guess we’re bunking at the saloon for the night?” Loras asked, smiling as Renly pouted. He knew Renly hated staying at places he didn’t know the layout of, but Loras figured one night in a small town wouldn’t hurt them too badly.

 “Looks like it,” Renly said, eying the saloon at the end of the strip with some distaste.

XX

 Music from a piano and laughter from the men in the saloon drowned out most of the storm, the only indication the heavens had opened was the occasional gust of wind through the lattice work of the swinging doors, chilling Loras as he sat at the bar. Sliding the shot glass between his hands against the rough wood of the bar, he watched the candlelight reflect off of the rim of the glass, deep in thought as everyone else tried to lose themselves in the bottle or a game of poker.

 Loras hadn’t thought much over the year about how he changed—never stopped to think about all of the little things that had happened to make his life completely different from what he’d grown up with and what he expected he’d be doing. As soon as he killed the man back in Dry Gulch, Loras had shed something—left a bit of himself behind. Left a part that he thought he didn’t need anymore, and walked away without looking back. He never looked back—not since he left the ranch, Margaery ushering him to go and a fire in his soul telling him this was the right way.

 Hesitation, he had learned, would get you killed.

 Not just out here, where outlaws ran and a greeting with a gun was more common than a smile. No, hesitation would get you killed anywhere. Whether or not it was a bullet in the head from not pulling that trigger fast enough, or sitting on a porch in your old age, regretting that you never took the chances life offered.

 Loras had decided he’d no longer hesitate, and began acting on emotions and instinct—something that had served him well in the last year. He shot faster than anyone else, reacted fast and took what he wanted.

 And Renly was by his side the entire time, still safe and sound and happy, like Loras had silently promised him he would keep him.

 The sound of Renly’s laugh in that instance brought Loras back from his musings, and he glanced over his shoulder to see him with his head tossed back, cards in his hands as he played a game of poker with a few other travelers. Smiling, Loras admired the lines of Renly’s neck—he looked so free and without care.

 Sitting back straight, he felt eyes on him. Turning slightly, he noticed a woman sitting near the bar, the sleeve of her gown coming down, revealing her shoulder. Her hair was in a messy bun, long, thin strands framing her round face, kohl lining her eyes. Coughing slightly, he turned away from her, indicating he wasn’t interested, shoulders hunched and elbows braced on the counter.

 Loras was a romantic. He thought you should treat a lady with respect and marry her before you took her to bed. It was what gentlemen did and it was what God had stated should happen. While Loras did not care what other men did with the women, he never allowed himself to indulge. Besides, Loras had never been interested at all. Sometimes he’d try and find some appeal in them. He’d stand and watch other men grab at them—watch the swell of their breasts above their corsets and the curve of their hips underneath thin skirts. He’s watch their long eyelashes caress their cheeks, and listen to the song in their laugh.

 But he never found it appealing. He never had a desire to buy a woman for the night or even talk to any of the pretty girls walking around the towns they visited. One time, a few of their fellow heist men bought Loras a girl for the night and sent her to his room. It ended with Loras having to let the girl down gently, not knowing what to do other than give her some money and asking her to leave right away. She just sat on his bed, clothes half off and hair disheveled, wondering what was wrong with him, but calming down once she realized she’d be getting paid regardless.

 He pitied the girls, mostly. Sometimes he’d see a bit of Margaery or Sansa in the women that approached him or other men in saloons and hideouts, and wanted desperately to get them something to eat or give them some money. But Renly told him early on that he couldn’t save all of the girls in the world, and most of them didn’t _need_ saving. It was almost as disrespectful to try and help them, figuring they needed it, than it was to buy them and use them in the first place.

 Still, Loras felt drawn to the girl at the end of the bar, for reasons that weren’t at all sexual. He wanted to give her a bit of coin or something to help her out. But then another man came around in that moment and wrapped his arm around her waist, making her fake a giggle and a smile as he lead her off, hands groping away.

 Sighing, he got up in that moment, grabbing his hat and running a hand through his hair, passing Renly on his way to the room. “I’m headed up,” he said, patting Renly’s shoulder gently.

 Renly let out a holler and ‘I’ll be there in a second’ as Loras left, the stairs carrying him up and away from most of the noise. Reaching their shared room, Loras tossed his hat and jacket off, followed by his guns and ammo belt, before collapsing on the bed, the springs creaking under his weight. When Renly said he’d be there in a second he wasn’t lying. No sooner had Loras lain down was Renly coming through the door, laughing to himself.

 “I just lay waste to the men down there,” he said, dumping some money, a watch and a fresh roll of cigarettes on his cot.

 “You win a few games?” Loras asked, rolling on to his side, watching as Renly sorted through his winnings.

 “Of course I did—I always win.” Standing, he shed his jacket, hat and guns before looking out the window, rain splattering against the glass. “Looks nasty out there—it’s a good thing we got into town before it hit.”

 “God is smiling upon us,” Loras drawled out, yawning. Eying the lantern, he watched the flame dance around in its glass container, Renly’s shadow moving along with it on the walls. He wasn’t surprised when Renly headed over to his bed, and shifted over so Renly could sit down on the cot. Kicking his boots off, Renly turned the gas to the lantern off, and then lay down beside Loras.

 Arms automatically wrapping around Renly’s waist, Loras hugged him, one of his legs hooking over Renly’s own to hold him close.

 This was normal to them—sharing a sleeping space. Loras thought nothing strange about it, despite knowing that other men didn’t usually cuddle close to one another at night. But there wasn’t anything strange about it to him—it was just what they did. It reminded them of the fact that they were still there and still alive and still doing well. That they weren’t alone despite everything that had happened that day, no matter how boring or life-changing the day was.

 Loras wasn’t surprised the first time Renly had crawled into bed with him, but he _was_ surprised at how easily they fit together. Renly always seemed to curl against Loras—seeking affection Loras believed he’d lacked growing up. He still knew little of the enigma that lay in his arms, his past still a mystery and the sadness in his gaze puzzling, but that didn’t stop Loras from accepting whatever was troubling Renly while trying to make it better, no matter how much he didn’t understand it. If that meant holding Renly close in the middle of the night when the devil walked among mortals, so be it.

 “Good night, Little Rose,” Renly mumbled, his hand reaching down to gently clasp Loras’ arm as it stayed wrapped around his waist.

 “Good night, cheater.”

 Loras grinned as Renly huffed. “I won that fair and square. I have a mean poker face.”

 That just made Loras laugh and Renly pout further.


	12. Blood on a Bank Floor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in the below piece of fiction.
> 
> Warning: Gun violence
> 
> Authors Note: One step closer to some self-discoveries...

 Spinning the barrel of his revolver around, Loras listened to the conversation idly. The soft cleaning cloth was comforting in his hand as he polished the metal slowly, taking his time over the intricate rose and vine pattern inlaid on the barrel. Running his tongue along the back of his teeth, he sighed heavily, eyelids drooping, his attention waning as conversations were repeated and ridiculous ideas were exchanged. He hadn’t said anything the entire gathering, disinterested in the heist in the first place. He saw no reason for it, really. He and Renly had amassed a nice fortune for themselves that would get them all the way to Canada if they so wished. Loras was actually beginning to feel bogged down by all of the money they had.

 Besides, what they were going to do would bring even more attention to themselves—something neither really wanted considering there was already a bounty on their heads. But he didn’t voice any of his displeasures, and simply stared blankly at Greyjoy from across the table, wincing anytime the name ‘Lannister’ was mumbled.

 The Lannisters held most of the banks in the West, their names synonymous with riches, wealth and loans. They had branches all over Texas and had even managed to spread upward to New York. Loras was familiar with them well before he ran away from home, his father grudgingly doing business with them on many an occasion. Due to their status as a wealthy, influential family, robbing one of their banks was close to suicide. Stealing from them was easy enough—while their banks were well kept and the walls thick brick and steel, if you knew what you were doing, had enough of a posse with you, and threatened the tellers, the money would be yours.

 But keeping it afterward—that was the difficult part. The Lannisters had a reputation for hunting down those who took from them, and would do anything in their power to see the gang that dared to defy them come crumbling down.

 Which was why, of course, they were Renly’s favourite banks to take from.

 He liked the challenge and the thrill taking from the Lannisters brought him. It also bought him influence amongst the men and women in the underground world. He’d taken from the Lannisters more than any other outlaw out there, their banks his favourite place to target.

 Loras did not like taking from the Lannisters, however. He realized that sooner or later someone would get hurt, and that someone was most likely going to be Renly—a thought that scared him more than he’d care to admit. They hadn’t harmed him yet, but anytime they took something from the Lannisters and their business partners, Loras felt as if they were tugging on a lion’s tale, teasing it until it finally snapped back.

 “Loras.”

 Raising his gaze from the gun, Loras stared across the table at Greyjoy, a brow raised. “Yes?”

 Rolling his eyes, Greyjoy did not seem pleased with how he was treated, but then again, Greyjoy was never pleased with Loras. “You stay in the lobby with the tellers and the customers while Baratheon and Pyp over here bust open the safe.”

 “And you’ll be…?

 “Have you not listened to any of this meeting?” Greyjoy asked, dropping a bullet on the table, jaw clenched.

 Loras shrugged, ignoring Renly’s stare that seemed to bore into the side of his skull. “I didn’t think it was that important given the fact that this is just like every other heist we’ve done. The only thing that matters is the layout, and seeing as how I’m just watching the people in the lobby along with Snow, I only need to know the lobby.”

 “If you don’t want to do this heist you should just fucking say so. You don’t need the money,” Greyjoy replied, voice tight.

 “I don’t. But Renly wants to go, so I will go.”

 “You his little lapdog now?”

 Loras stood quickly, everyone else following suit, all hands straying to their sides, poised over guns. Gaze flicking down to Greyjoy’s hand, he watched his fingers twitch above the handle of his revolver—hesitating on whether or not to draw it.

_Greyjoy always hesitates. That’s why he’s such a shit shot._

“I’m not a lapdog, Greyjoy—you and I aren’t nothing alike.” He didn’t even wait for a response and tossed his cleaning cloth on to the table, turned around and left the old house, slamming his empty revolver into his hip holder. Reaching into his vest pocket, he pulled out a thin, silver cigarette case and stuffed a smoke in his mouth, a match following soon after, lighting it. Taking a long drag, he wandered off to the tethered horses, kicking a stone out of the way on his trek.

 The tobacco was soothing him already, curling around in his lungs, making the anger inside him subside. It wasn’t until he was sitting on a boulder near the horses by a cactus did he realize how close he’d come to getting shot. Most of the guns, had they been pulled, would have been on Loras. And it was well-deserved; he’d instigated the confrontation.

 It wasn’t like he’d ever admit to it, though.

 He heard footsteps behind him soon after and was about to tell Renly to go away, but another voice caught him off-guard.

 “Are you alright?” Soft and full of concern, Tarly’s voice drifted over to him.

 Nodding, Loras took another drag of his cigarette, pulling the case out to offer one to Tarly as he came to sit down beside him. Shifting over on the rock to give the plump man some room, Loras watched him pluck one out. He made no move to light it, however, and simply tapped it against his finger, smiling softly.

 “I was just worried in there—some of the men can get a bit brutish, it seems.”

 Samwell Tarly was a boy who came into the outlaw world under circumstances not unlike Loras’. From a proper family that valued their ranching business, he never fit in working out in the fields, his legs too slow and his use of a lasso almost as terrible as a blind man with only one leg. Preferring a more academic lifestyle, he’d left home after being threatened with abandonment out in the desert, and sought his luck somewhere else.

 His luck came in the form of Jon Snow (who Loras had finally figured out used to be a Stark, making for an awkward conversation months ago revolving around Sansa) who saved him from a bunch of men attempting to rob him after beating him up against a saloon in a large town. Since then, Tarly was part of the group, although still green and unsure of himself.

 Loras hadn’t even seen him use a gun, and wondered what use he could possibly be on a heist. Still, his kindness was appreciated by all, and his company was respected.

 “It’s common enough—especially when Greyjoy is involved,” Loras said. For some reason, Loras felt more comfortable around Tarly than the others, save for Renly. Perhaps it was his upbringing on the ranch that made him easier to connect with, even though Tarly was almost his polar opposite. “I’m just… I have a bad feeling about this heist.”

 “Why do you say that?”

 Sighing, Loras stared out across the way, watching one of the horses tails flick back and forth. Taking a long drag, he let the smoke slide out of his nose before answering. “Lannister banks are… notorious for having a lot of complications. You should only really go after one if you really need the money, and yet Greyjoy specifically chose this one out of all of the banks in the area. He’s looking for a bit of glory, and that never pans out well.”

 “You’re worried for Baratheon, aren’t you?” Loras turned suddenly to look at Tarly, a brow quirked. “It’s alright—we all know you two are close to each other. Like brothers, people say. I know I worry for all of us whenever we go on a heist. It’s understandable, really. Just keep an eye out for him and worry about the two of you. The rest of us get along well enough when you’re not around.”

 Nodding slowly, Loras fiddled with the end of his smoke, ash falling on to his boots. “Do you feel it, too? I mean… the wrongness of it all?”

 Tarly shrugged and passed the cigarette back to Loras. Standing, he dusted off his pants. “I always feel wrong about going on a heist. I’ll just sit with the horses like I always do and hope it all goes well. And I’m sure it will. Just keep your head clear and try not to think about it being a Lannister bank.”

 Leaving Loras alone, Tarly wandered back to the house, Loras once again running around in circles, trying to remove the Lannister name out of the equation. If they just did this one heist, they’d be free to finally go up north, Renly’s excuses all used up. All he had to do was this one last heist…

XX

 It was a busy day at the bank. Customers freely going in and out of the center, slips of paper in some hands, money in others, some with smiles and others with frowns. It was a full, productive day that promised to be successful.

 That was, until a group of masked men threw themselves into the room, one of them shooting down a glass chandelier to send crystal and glass crashing to the ground. Women screamed and men roared, while the tellers in the back ducked and covered, knowing well enough not to fight back despite their official orders to defend the product at the cost of their lives.

 Jumping up on to one of the tables, Loras held firmly on to his rifle, looking around the room to see people frozen in fear. “Alright—everyone, on to the ground, now!” he yelled, some already dropping to the wooden floorboards. A few took their time getting down into position, but Snow dealt with them, storming over to them, threatening them with an early death should they not lie down.

 Loras saw Renly and Greyjoy scuttle off to the back with Pyp, one of the tellers leading them, gun pointed to their temple. With Grenn positioned at the door, his trusted shotgun in his grip, Loras knew they were all properly situated and began his usual talk, trying to distract the people from the scuffle going on in the back.

 “Right, now I want you all to stay on the ground and don’t even think about moving,” he began, walking back and forth on the sturdy table, boots clicking on the wood. “If you just stay where you are, you don’t bother us none, then no one will get hurt. But if you do try something—” He lifted his gun and trained it on a man in the corner, his hand going to his revolver on his side, “then I guess I’ll just have to shoot you, which I loath to do, considering it’s such a _fine_ day.”

 He cocked his rifle and the man lowered his hand immediately.

 Greyjoy appeared from the back right after, and began harassing the tellers for any other goods they had up at the front. Loras continued to scan the room, Snow doing the same, the tension in the room escalating at the tick of the clock on the wall counted down the seconds. They needed to be moving soon before the sheriff and his men showed up. You had a small window in which no one had time to alert law enforcement, and that window was precious if you wanted no bloodshed and a successful robbery. He kept his faith up, though, trusting Renly’s and Pyp’s skill with rooting out whatever it was they wanted in the back and getting out in record time.

 One of the tellers had started to weep, Greyjoy yelling at her, making her cry more as she fumbled with taking her bracelet off.

 “Hey, don’t take from the ladies,” Loras yelled, causing Greyjoy to freeze.

 “You don’t… I… fine.” Tossing the bracelet back at the woman, Greyjoy glared at Loras from atop his bandana, venom in his gaze. Loras knew Greyjoy wouldn’t argue with him in a heist—it screamed of a weak posse, one that could be overpowered if they weren’t united. So he stayed silent, but the animosity practically seeped from him, curling around Loras’ ankles, threatening to topple him from the table he was on.

 _Where the fuck are they?_ he wondered, pacing back and forth, everyone doing as they were told to do and staying still, knowing it would be over soon enough. They’d been inside for two minutes already—too long. Way too long. They should have been out by now. Eying the back door, Loras tried to stop himself from fidgeting, the butt of his rifle firmly pressed against his armpit, digging in.

 The sound of the cavalry arriving outside made Loras’ heart sink, but the holler from Renly as they bolted out of the back room brought back that courage he’d lacked in that second. Jumping from the table, Loras headed to the door, rifle raised as Renly began his goodbye taunt, a sack in his hand and a pistol in the other.

 “It has been a fine day, ladies and gentlemen, and I am glad I got to be a part of making it even better for you all. Your cooperation with my compatriots and I has been greatly appreciated.” Tipping his hat, Renly shot a bullet through the ceiling, the signal for them to all leave and for Sam to come with the horses.

 “The sheriff’s arrived,” Grenn said as they all neared the door, jogging through the mass of people on the floor. Looking out the window, Loras noticed that there were a few men waiting, guns at the ready for them.

 “Fuck,” he whispered, Renly and Greyjoy saying the same thing at the exact same time, only louder than Loras. “We’re gonna have to fight our way out of this.”

 Renly hummed, showing up at the window next to Loras. Looking over his shoulder, Renly rested his hand on Loras’ back, comforting for both of them as they touched. “You think you can just wound them?”

 “I always aim to wound, not kill. At least, not lawmen,” Loras said. “I’ll take the two furthest on the left. You take the center and have Snow take the right. Use your revolvers, though, and aim for the legs or the arms—don’t kill ‘em.”

 As he said this, he gripped his rifle, the end of it aimed for the window, prepared to smash it. Leaving Loras, Renly hurried over to Snow who was at the other window, rifle raised in the same position, ready to break the window. A hurried conversation was had before Snow nodded across at Loras, determined to do this right and quick.

 Taking a steadying breath, Loras counted to three before slamming the rifle against the window, glass shattering and flying out, coating everything in jagged shards. Ducking down, he slipped his rifle over his shoulder, the sound of two other windows breaking heard as he pulled his revolver out and peeked over the windowsill. The men outside had shot a few times already, the shattering glass causing them to spook and shoot early. Taking the opportunity presented to him, Loras lifted and took three shots, hitting one of the men in the knee right off the bat. Ducking down as a few more shots were fired at him, he listened to the sound of the gunpowder and the crack of bullets against stone, waiting until they had to reload before peeking over the window again. When he did, he noticed Renly’s man was down, but the other two—his second and Snow’s—were missing.

 “Where the hell did they go?” Loras asked, eyes wild, looking up at Greyjoy who was nearest to the door.

 “Behind the watering trough,” Greyjoy said, eyes skirting over the crowd in the room, a few women weeping as the violence escalated.

 Growling, Loras peeked over the edge, spotting the trough across the street, the men hiding behind it. Watching and waiting, he ignored the wails behind him and the groans of pain in front of him, and just stared at the top of one of the men’s hat. A second or two passed before the man was lifting himself to take a shot, and that was when Loras did the same.

 He was a split second too late.

 He heard a yell of pain off to the side as the shot went off, followed by the lawman’s own wail as Loras took out his hand.

 “God fucking damnit!”

  _Renly’s been hit._

 Not even bothering with his own safety, Loras shoved his revolver back in its holder and ran across the room to the other window where Renly was lying, pain evident on his face. Hand pressed against his arm, he let out a gasp of discomfort while Loras pushed his hand away to inspect the damage, breath hitching as the realization that Renly was hurt finally made sense to him. _I knew we shouldn’t have done this—I knew it I knew it I knew it_. Blood pooled out of the wound as soon as Renly’s hand was removed, coating Loras’ fingers and Renly’s shirt, making it impossible to see what it was that had happened and how extensive the wound was.

 “I-It’s just a scratch—it just grazed me,” Renly panted out. Loras wasn’t really listening, the sight of Renly’s blood making him panic, hands shaking as he tried to stop the bleeding.  Why wouldn’t it just stop? “It’s nothing, Little Rose—we need to get going.”

 “B-But you’re bleeding,” Loras said, dully noticing hands were on his shoulders, pulling him away from Renly. He tried to fight them, but they were too strong, and he rose as he was lifted up by his elbow, spurs cutting into the wood of the floor.

 “Snow got the last one and we need to move,” Grenn insisted, pushing Loras aside once he’d lifted him up. “Can you walk?”

 “Yeah, it was my arm not my leg,” Renly gritted out, Greyjoy helping him up as Loras was pushed toward the door. Their eyes locked in that instance, and Loras could once again see the confidence behind the haze of pain in Renly’s gaze. He found his footing as soon as he realized that Renly wasn’t dying, and kicked the door open, letting Renly and Grenn out, everyone following suit. Someone had signaled for Sam to arrive, and he was there with the horses, sweat beading down his face as dust clouds sprouted up around the feet of the horses. Loras noticed Sam had bothered to kick the guns away from the wounded lawmen, but forgot to thank him as he helped Renly on to his horse, a blood handprint on the side of Ricochet’s neck as Loras leaned against the beast.

 “Are you going to be—“ he began, only to have Renly send him a look as if to say ‘stop being a worrier and get on your god damn horse’. Nodding, he understood well enough and hopped on to Daisy, everyone else already taking off. Following suit, Loras held the rear, daring to look back only a few times as they charged away from the town and down into the valley.

 It wasn’t until they’d managed to make it a fair distance from the town did Loras look ahead, eyes trained on Renly as he held on to the reins with one hand. Tugging down his bandana, he sped Daisy up to catch up to Renly, needing to see him and be near him, his hands still shaking.

 “You okay?” he asked over the sound of hooves and the wind.

 “Stop asking,” Renly gritted out, bandana still covering his face, blood all over his left arm.

 When they finally arrived at their camp, Renly was almost off of his horse, pale and sweating from the blood loss. Sliding off of Daisy even before she’d come to a complete stop, he was right by Renly’s side, helping him off.

 “It’s just a scratch, I swear,” Renly mumbled, leaning on Loras as he took him to their makeshift tent off to the side, Tarly following behind with a canteen in hand.

 “What happened?” Tarly asked as Renly sat down on the cot, pulling his bandana off. Taking Renly’s ammo belt off, Loras tossed it to the side and began working on all the buttons on his vest and shirt, opening them deftly, everyone’s shadow hovering over his back, worried about Renly.

 “Got skimmed by a bullet. Oh god, the blood—I can’t even look at it,” Renly said dramatically. The fact that Renly was still worried about seeing blood made Loras relax further, a smile tugging at his lips. If Renly had enough time to worry about blood, the fatality of the wound wasn’t as high as he thought it might have been. Still, it needed to be treated if they didn’t want some sort of infection on their hands.

 As soon as the shirt was off Loras grabbed the canteen Tarly had and poured it across Renly’s arm, ignoring his hiss as the water cleared away the blood. It _was_ just a scratch—the skin and a bit of muscle having been taken off near his shoulder. Painful, yes, but it wasn’t fatal.

 “You’re lucky they use good bullets that don’t break apart,” Loras mumbled, relief seeping into his voice as Greyjoy stuck his head into the small tent and passed Renly a flask. Taking it, Renly took a swig before giving it to Loras. Pouring the alcohol on to the wound, he let Renly squeeze down on his knee as the alcohol ate away at whatever was in the cut, cleaning it.

 “Son of a bitch,” Renly mumbled through gritted teeth.

 “Don’t be such a baby,” Loras said, fond despite the teasing. “Do we have any bandages?” he asked, turning around to peer up at Greyjoy, the previous tension between them gone for now, distracted by a united concern for Renly.

 “Yeah, just a second, I’ll get you some.”

 Leaving the opening of the tent, Loras and Renly were left alone, the other members of the posse chatting outside. Not listening to them, Loras just stared at Renly, unable to stop the relief that flooded through him at seeing Renly only in pain and not in the throes of death. “You scared me.”

 Renly shrugged, then winced as the pain spiked through his arm. “I told you not to worry about me—I was fine… still… thank you. The pain isn’t as bad when you’re here with me.”

 Loras felt a blush creeping across his cheeks, and Renly’s hand that had been resting on his knee skirted further upward, warming his thigh. Letting out a puff of air, Loras’ eyes flicked down to his hand, coated in dust and blood but still as inviting and comforting as ever. Only Renly’s touch sent a spark through Loras this time, one he couldn’t rightly explain as his hand moved further and further upward.

 “R-Renly, I don’t—” he began, not stopping Renly as the warmth spread from his thigh all the way up to his groin.

 “Here you go!” Greyjoy’s voice snapped them from the moment, and Loras jumped away from Renly’s touch, turning around to busy himself with the bandages provided. Taking them with thanks, Greyjoy nodded and sent Renly a wink before leaving the two alone again. Renly’s hand was far away from Loras when Loras turned back around, and when Loras looked at him he saw a cheeky smile and softness in his big blue eyes.

 “What?” Renly asked, as if nothing had happened—as if he hadn’t just made Loras feel… feel something he hadn’t felt before. Something he couldn’t rightly explain.

 “Nothing,” Loras said, not knowing what to say. Instead he began working on Renly’s arm, bandaging him up quickly. Once he was done he cleaned his hands off on Renly’s now ruined shirt, letting Renly lie down on his cot, cradling his arm. “Are you going to be okay?”

 “Yeah, I just… need a rest. Wake me in a bit?” he asked, already dozing off. Nodding, Loras brushed back a few strands of his hair that had come out of the ponytail, tucking the black locks behind his ear.

 “I’ll wake you in time for food,” Loras said, grinning when Renly made a happy sound and curled up tighter.

 Leaving the tent, Loras stepped out into the hot sun and pulled his hat off, wiping his brow as he approached everyone else as they sat near the snuffed out campfire, expectantly waiting for news on Renly.

 “He’s fine,” he began, sitting down beside them. The moment in the tent was forgotten already as Loras explained what had happened to those who hadn’t seen the wound cleaned off.

 In the end they’d managed to get a good amount of money, but Loras didn’t care about that. The money was tainted by Renly’s blood, and when it came time to divide it up, Loras sat back by the fire and watched the others paw over their goods, pleased with their riches, ignoring the cost at which it had come.


	13. Rainy Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, GRRM does
> 
> Warning: Gun violence and physical violence
> 
> Authors Note: Aha... just read to the end. Hopefully you'll like it.

 Standing near the old campfire, Loras kicked sand into it idly, the embers already long since dead. Fiddling with a bullet in his pocket, he slid the metal against the pad of his thumb, the little object comforting in his grasp. He hadn’t slept well the night before, and Renly’s slower movements due to the injury were making Loras more irritable than usual. Everyone else had left—the gang going off together while Loras and Renly were alone once more. It was the usual; everyone left while Loras and Renly stayed together, loners who had banded together yet refused to completely depend on the rest of them.

 Loras still hadn’t figured out why it was such an anomaly that he followed Renly wherever he went. No one had bothered to explain, only showing shock and a bit of curiosity themselves. _“You mean Baratheon lets you travel with him? I’ll be damned; I’ve never seen him with anyone for more than a day or two.”_ But Loras stopped asking questions and just outwardly accepted it—like he did with everything else that came with Renly.

 “You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to piss with only one good arm.” Renly said, appearing behind Loras. “Are you ready to go?”

 “I’ve been ready for a while,” Loras mumbled, moving away from the ring of stones toward Daisy. He felt a headache coming on—a pinch between his eyebrows that became worse and worse as the sun moved higher in the sky. He didn’t remember his dreams last night, but he’d tossed and turned the entire night, body alert and ready for something. He tasted copper when he woke.

 Apparently the run it at the bank yesterday had scared Loras more than he thought it had. The revelation made him uncomfortable.

 “Right… Well we should take the road heading into Louisiana—I was thinking we could check out what’s down there; maybe see the swamps?”

 Loras froze, hand on the pommel of his saddle, an angry flush creeping across the back of his neck. They were supposed to be going _north_.

 Renly seemed oblivious to Loras’ sudden anger, and simply continued speaking, mistaking Loras’ silence for disinterest. “Greyjoy keeps reminiscing about the area. I mean, most of its bad stuff, but seeing as how we’re not part of the Greyjoy clan that essentially disowned him for not being hard enough I think we’re safe to go down there.”

 Loras watched as Renly got on to Ricochet, wincing as he used his arm more than he wanted to. Working his arm back and forth as soon as he was seated, he shook his head, a smoke dangling lazily from his lips. Loras just stood beside Daisy, glaring at Renly from over her neck.

_We are supposed to be going north._

“What do you think, Loras?” Renly asked, smiling pleasantly.

 “We’re supposed to go up north,” Loras said through gritted teeth.

 Renly lost a bit of his smile then, and the mask he wore so well slid overtop, hiding whatever he was feeling. “Yeah, I know I said we would. And we will, it’s just, we’re so close, you know?”

 Shaking his head, Loras sighed, jaw thrust forward. “No, no you said we were going north. You promised me we’d go north.”

 “We will,” Renly said, the smile now completely gone. He looked worried. “I just want to see the swamps.”

 “And I want to see the fucking mountains,” Loras shot back. He didn’t know why he was pressing it—he didn’t know why he was suddenly so angry about it. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep or perhaps it was the continual frustration at Renly’s avoidance. Maybe it was a combination of it all, coupled with the fact that Renly had almost gotten killed on another heist they didn’t need to complete. Whatever it was, Loras was angry, hand gripping the horn on his saddle with as much force as he could muster. “I’m leaving for up north today—with or without you.”

 It slipped past before he could really think it through, but as he said it he did not regret it. He had the means and the way to go, and he hoped Renly would agree if he gave him an ultimatum. But the _fear_ that flashed in Renly’s eyes told Loras that it wasn’t going to work that way.

 “N-No, I can’t go, Loras. Not yet. I just… there are things up there that I don’t want to deal with right now.”

 “What are those things?”

 “I can’t talk about.”

 “Can’t or won’t.”

 “I JUST DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!” Renly practically screamed it out, anger and fear making him lash out in a way Loras had never seen him react before. Ricochet spooked then and pranced around, Renly only just getting him under control. His smoke fell from his lips and on to the sand, and suddenly Renly was interested in it only, refusing to look at Loras as he continued. He was nervous. “I just don’t want to go.”

 “Tell me why,” Loras urged, wanting desperately for Renly to just open up to him. Getting up on to Daisy, Loras stared hard at Renly, trying not to let Renly’s obvious discomfort sway him. Renly told Loras on the day they first met that he had to trust him. But Loras wasn’t sure if Renly trusted _him_. “Tell me why you don’t want to go north and I will stay.”

 Renly’s eyes widened further if it was at all possible. That was when the real panic set in. “You’re leaving me?” The question came out in a rush, breath hitching at the end. Loras had no idea what was going on with Renly, but the anger he had within himself at the entire situation refused to disappear, making him more vicious than he had any right to be.

 “How am I supposed to travel with a man who won’t even trust me enough to tell me why he’s breaking his promises?” he asked, holding on hard to his reins. “We’re supposed to be partners, Renly, but I don’t feel as if we are. Open up to me and prove to me you trust me, or I will leave to go see what I want to see.”

 “Please don’t’ leave…” Renly whispered.

 It wasn’t what Loras wanted to hear, but he felt a pang in his chest all the same.

 “I’ll always come back once I’ve seen what I want to see,” he said, softer this time. This only seemed to frustrate Renly further, tears welling in his eyes and head shaking back and forth.

 “How many times have I heard that?” he asked, a bitter breaking past cracked lips. Staring up at the sky, Renly tried to compose himself, eyes squeezing shut. Dropping his head back down, he let out a sigh and turned to Loras, blue eyes filled with old memories that spoke of more pain and betrayal than Loras would ever know. “I can’t go north.”

 “Then I can’t travel with you to Louisiana,” Loras said, too far gone to take it back. It was the truth, no matter how much it pained the both of them.

XX

 Loras left as quickly as he could, kicking Daisy into a gallop, unable to stand the tension between the two. If he didn’t leave when he did, he’d never leave. He’d be stuck following someone who, although he cared for with all his heart, had broken his promises and refused to trust him.

 It was enough to warrant leaving.

 Or so he told himself as he rode further and further on, chest aching and throat sore from contained emotion.

 He had no idea where he was going, just needing to get away from the lone figure near the old campsite, his silhouette more than Loras could handle. Renly was shaking like a leaf when Loras left him, and Loras wasn’t sure if it was the guilt inside him making him hear and see things that weren’t true, but he swore Renly had let out one of the most pained sobs he’d ever heard when he turned around and left.

 He finally slowed Daisy down after he realized that no amount of running could get Renly out of his head. Instead he tried to reason with himself, debating why he’d done it and if it was the right thing to do. But no justification for his actions rang true for Loras, and he ended up stopping Daisy near the side of the road to collapse down on to the dirt, head bowed between his knees as he tried to hold on to the anger he’d felt speaking to Renly, rather than the guilt and regret.

  _He never trusted me and he never will. I was just being used for heists; that was all._ But if that were true, how come Renly never broke like he did when Greyjoy left? Or Snow? Ygritte? Loras had made a silent vow to protect Renly from the ills in the world, and here he was, sitting far away from him now after smashing him apart with his words and his frustrations.

 He was lost and confused, unable to untangle his emotions, all of them twisting and curling around the other, tainting them and making it impossible to figure out if he was angry or guilty, glad he was going north or devastated that Renly wasn’t by his side. He _was_ right— traveling with someone who couldn’t even tell you how old they were was dangerous. He was playing with fire, his own loyalty proven time and time again, but Renly’s still a bit of a mystery, untested.

 But Renly had shown Loras kindness and vulnerability. Renly had trusted him enough to let him guard over him during the night not two days after they’d first met. But little pockets of trust wasn’t enough… it just wasn’t…

 Or was it?

 Once again the fear and anguish in Renly’s gaze hit Loras as he sat on the ground, and he couldn’t help but curl further in, gut hurting and throat constricting as he tried to hold back the tears.

 Why’d he done it? And how could he fix it?

 Grabbing the cross around his neck, Loras began to pray, asking God for guidance—looking for that road that lead him to the right answers so desperately.

 “Heavenly Father, I thank you for the health of those I cherish and for your protection yesterday. But I have another request for you… I… I need guidance, Father. I need to know where to go or what to do. I betrayed the one I… I love. I betrayed him and I need your help to tell me how to right my wrongs. Please, I beg of you, Father. Please help me.”

 Loras was religious in that he’d grown up with it. He never made a point of declaring his love for the All Mighty, nor crediting things such as clear skies on days where it was needed as being the work of his god. But he went to church every Sunday and believed enough to seek the comfort of his faith when things grew tough. Loras also religious in the sense that when a ‘miracle’ happened, he thought of happenstance first, closely followed by divine inspiration.

 But when he heard the idle chatter of a few men wandering down the road toward him, Loras couldn’t help but think it was a gift from God. He believed God had brought Renly to him, and now it appeared as if he was bringing him back.

 “—he was in town when it happened.”

 “You don’t say?”

 “Yes, staying at his place up on the hill. Can you believe it? The day one of his banks was robbed from, Mr. Lannister was in that very town.”

 Loras lifted his head when the name Lannister was mumbled. He _hated_ that name. Eying the travelers as they came down the road, he noticed they were nothing more than farmers, a small wagon with feed and supplies that one of the horses pulled lazily down the trail. The other rode beside him, not a weapon to be found on his body.

 “Is he going to do anything?”

 “Someone said he took off with a gun and a few men to find those who did it.”

 Loras stood and hurried over to the two men as they neared. Immediately their arms went up, fear in the wagon driver’s eyes as he approached. He cared little for the manner in which he approached them, needing to hear more and not caring how he got from them.

 “Tywin Lannister—he went after the gang that robbed him?” he asked, stopping the horses. The man on the horse nodded, eyes roaming over Loras’ heavily armed form.

 “T-That’s what I heard.”

 “Do they know where the gang stopped?”

 “I-I don’t know, all I heard w-was he went off with two other men and a shotgun. H-He said he was going to go find them and deal with them. H-He was angry.”

 “Fuck,” Loras said, turning around and running back to Daisy, jumping on her back. Turning her around, he nodded his head and tipped his hat to the men, then shot off down the trail back the way he’d come. He had no idea where he was going, having learned very little about tracking growing up on the farm. Garlan had always been better at it, but Loras had picked up enough that he hoped he’d be able to at least find a trail from the old campsite and catch up to Renly.

 Because that was all he had in that moment—hope.

 Loras knew they’d been playing with fire taking on another Lannister bank. It had been brash and stupid and although Loras knew he was brash and stupid, he didn’t want anyone else hurt because of his own personal follies. But because Greyjoy and all the rest of them had insisted they steal from that particular bank, Renly had been shot and now he was alone, being hunted down like prey.

 He pushed Daisy as far as she could go, clouds moving in across the way to shield them from the heat, the smell of a storm in the air. But still he rode, Daisy never wavering as he tried to right what he’d wronged. He’d left Renly, hurt and alone and mentally unsound. Left because he was angry and feeling petty.

 If Renly died—

 No, he couldn’t think about that possibility. He _wouldn’t_ think about it. He had to believe that Renly would make it. Maybe Tywin Lannister wouldn’t even find him—maybe Renly had managed to keep a low cover and hide his tracks. But the mental state Renly was in when Loras left was not one that thought ahead and kept things in check. He was a mess when Loras left. A broken mess because of _him_.

_There is time for you to bet yourself up over it later, Loras._ _Just keep moving,_ he thought, desperate to reach the camp before the rain began and any possible tracks were gone.

 He was given a break, and as soon as he reached the old campsite he hopped off of Daisy and looked around for tracks that could indicate the direction Renly rode. He found where the rest of the posse had left—most of them heading down to Mexico but cutting around the town, going west first. He found their tracks just as the wind began to pick up, and traveled back to the campsite, looking for where he and Renly had been standing before they parted.

 The smoke Renly’s dropped was like a little beacon in the sand and dirt when he found it. Crushed but distinct, he found his own tracks from that spot heading east before he cut on to the trail. Which meant Renly’s tracks were the only ones left…

 Only they weren’t.

 Someone else had been here.

 Cursing, Loras hopped on to Daisy as the first few drops of rain began, and followed the trail that headed North-West, deeper into the desert and the pitted valleys that were dotted with desert brush and tall cacti. The rain started coming down heavier the deeper they traveled, and Loras was forced to slow Daisy down, the ground becoming muddy and dangerous for her to even canter across. But the two kept going, Loras not giving up the pursuit.

 Just as the rain began to pound down and the air began to chill, Loras saw something off in the distance atop the hill—a flash or something. Speeding Daisy up, she picked her away across the ground well, Loras taking a chance, the possibility of her breaking her leg high. But his heart was racing too fast for him to control his excitement, the adrenaline rushing through his system and the need to find Renly making him reckless and dangerous. As he got closer he could pick out two forms standing atop a hill, horses standing beside them as they looked down into the valley below—not very tall, but tall enough that Loras couldn’t see whoever was in that valley.

 But as soon as he saw the distinct blanket on the back of one of the horses, he knew what was going on. Kicking Daisy forward, he pulled out his gun without even thinking about it. Nearing, he aimed for one of the faceless men, letting out a slow, even breath despite the raggedness of his breathing before, and fired.

 The man dropped immediately, and Loras wasted no time in taking out the next man, so close he could see the fear in his eyes as he turned around and was greeted with a bullet in the middle of his forehead. Jumping off of Daisy, she skidded on the mud, but kept her ground, whinnying loudly as the rain pounded down harder. Jumping into the mud, Loras scrambled to the edge of the hill and looked down.

 He saw Renly first, all hunched over and in obvious pain, his good arm wrapped around his stomach as he tried to stay upward. His hat was missing, and his hair was plastered to his face looking like tendrils of black ink. He then noticed Tywin—tall and regal, a shotgun in his hand that had gone lax in the last second as his two men were shot up above.

 Loras had no idea why Tywin didn’t shoot either of them in that instance. Perhaps he was too in shock from the speed at which everything was happening and was unable to believe that someone had come out of the rain and the desert to find them. Or maybe Loras’ god had come and stilled the man’s heart for a second making it so he couldn’t react as he normally would.

 Whatever it was, Loras did not question it, and tossed himself down the valley, keeping his footing halfway down the muddy slope before he collapsed and slid down on his back the rest of the way. That was when Tywin Lannister took a shot at him, barely missing Loras as he grew closer, the spray from the shotgun shells bringing up dirt and destroying a plant right overtop his head.

 Loras completely forgot about his guns as he fell down toward them, his revolver dropped in the mud and his rifle clogged with grim as it was pressed into the slope. But Loras didn’t need his guns, fueled on pure adrenaline as he jumped up as soon as he reached the base and tackled Tywin Lannister on to the ground.

 For a second he felt like he was a kid again, the fights in the ranch nothing but grabbing hands and snarls, both trying to hit the other while they protected themselves. Rolling on the mud, they scrambled around together, Loras letting out a roar as he tried to rip the shotgun out of Tywin’s grasp. He was stronger and bigger than Loras was, but the fury he was feeling after seeing him pointing the weapon at Renly made Loras feel invincible. Wrenching the gun loose from his grip, he tossed it to the side, seeing a flash of concern in Tywin’s eyes—as if he thought Loras was going to blow his brains out with it. But Loras was past the point of doing things like a gentleman, and instead slammed his fist hard against his face once, twice, and three times before Tywin Lannister lay limp in the mud—knocked out cold.

 Standing on shaky legs, Loras brushed his wet and muddy hair out of his face and stared down at what he’d done, wondering if Tywin was going to get up or if he’d actually managed to punch him hard enough to knock him out. The sting in his hand and the tremble in his body told him that he probably had, and he stumbled backward and away from Tywin’s body, turning around just as he approached Renly.

 Renly had fallen down to the ground in that moment, and was sitting in the mud, eyes wide as Loras approached. Dropping down before him, Loras pushed the hair that was plastered to his forehead away, noticing the bruising around his eye and on his cheek. Loras suspected that wasn’t Tywin Lannister’s doing—rather the men he’d shot and killed.

 There was triumph in those deaths. Loras was proud of them.

 But he had no time to look Renly over further because Renly was grabbing his collar, pulling him forward. Teeth chattering and skin pale, Loras was lost in his eyes—relief and something else in Renly’s gaze as he looked upon him. Loras was about to question him or smile or do something—anything—but then Renly tugged him in closer and everything was silenced as his lips covered his own.

 His lips were cold and wet, and his nose pressed against Loras’ cheek, also cold and wet. But his breath was warm, tasting of tobacco and peppermint, and Loras instinctually opened his mouth, a gasp of surprise coming forth as Renly caught his upper lip between his own, fingers tangled in his curls to keep him close as they kissed.

 Loras stayed stiff, not knowing how to respond, body shaking and heart pounding in his chest, his breathing ragged. He gripped Renly’s leg tightly, his other hand pressed into the ground, mud seeping through his fingers. All he could hear was the patter of rain against Renly’s shoulders and the beat of his heart, while all he could think about was how cold and yet warm Renly was. How inviting and yet terrifying this all was. But he did not pull back. Instead he applied a soft kiss to Renly’s bottom lip, shaky and uncertain, but true and honest.  

 Eventually Renly pulled away, their noses rubbing together, fingers still tangled in messy curls, keeping Loras close. “You came back,” he whispered, a hopeful little smile on now kiss bruised lips. “You came back for me.”

 “I’ll always come back for you,” Loras replied. He felt cold without Renly’s breath on him.

  He had no idea what emotions he was feeling—everything was too complex for him to grasp. He wanted to kiss Renly again and yet wanted to push him away. He wanted to become lost in his embrace and yet knew it was against his religion. He wanted everything of Renly and yet knew it was wrong to ask of it.

 Instead he stood, helping Renly up. They had to leave—that much Loras knew. Tywin Lannister had begun to move then as well, a groan slipping past his lips as Renly stumbled in the mud and held on to Loras as tightly as he could.

 “We should kill him,” Renly mumbled, the rain letting up. There was coldness in his voice as he said it; one Loras hadn’t heard before.

 “No,” Loras said, surprised by his resolve. He wanted to kill him, but he knew they couldn’t. “We kill the most important banker in America and we’re dead by tomorrow. Leave him to lick his wounds.”

 Renly nodded, and the two made their way back up the slippery slope, Loras supporting Renly for most of the trip. They almost fell back down once or twice, but they got up eventually, climbing over the body of one of the dead men in the process, his blood mixed in with the mud that coated them. Loras found his revolver half way up and shoved it in his holster. He figured they should have taken the shotgun that was left near Tywin Lannister, but Loras also figured the man wouldn’t be coming for them.

 At least for now.

 Helping Renly up on to Daisy, he tied Ricochet’s lead to her saddle, sitting behind Renly once everything was in order. Wrapping his arm around Renly, he pressed him close to his chest and nudged Daisy forward, traveling slowly away from the scene they’d both brought about.

 “I tried to challenge him to a duel,” Renly mumbled when the rain stopped and the sun peaked out through the clouds. “I was… distracting him, I guess. I didn’t want to die so I just kept talking… thing was, even if I had dueled him I’d have lost. My arm wouldn’t draw fast enough to lift the gun in time… fucking bullet from yesterday.”

 Loras didn’t say anything, remembering Renly was left handed, the bullet having wounded his left side. A cruel joke from God, he figured. He’d taken everything from Renly for a day. What had he done to deserve that?

 But then Loras was reminded of the kiss and the bible and what it said about men who kissed and loved other men... Was this payment for Renly’s sins? Or his?

 He tried not to think about that—about what the kiss meant and what society told him versus what his heart did. He simply pulled Renly in closer and rested his chin on his shoulder, pressing his face against his neck, soaking him in. Nothing else mattered in that moment, save for the sway of Renly in front of him, the press of their cold, soaked forms tight together, and the warmth of the sun as it spread across the valley, lighting their way.

 There was time to worry later. For now, Loras would bask in the glow.


	14. Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own 'em
> 
> Warning: Sexual Themes

 The old shack at the bottom of a muddy riverbed was the most welcoming sight Loras had ever seen in his life. Leaning dangerously to one side with moss climbing all over, it looked like it would collapse if he so much as brushed up against it, but Renly had insisted that it was sturdy, stable, empty, and most of all, dry.

 The rain had come in pockets as they left the desert valley, keeping them cold and covered in mud as they tried to run as far away as possible. Renly suggested this place he knew that was a fair distance, but was in the middle of a river valley—a river that kept most of the desert towns alive. Loras didn’t know how Renly could remember all of these places and where they were exactly, but he trusted him enough to let him guide them, speeding up as they neared. Renly was fading fast, slouching forward with each passing hour as the sun set and the rain continued.

 Kicking the door in of the shack, Loras guided Renly down on to the ground, the place empty save for an old crate he could just make out in the dark. Trying to let Renly down gently, he ended up almost collapsing on top of him, their combined weight making them topple over on to the rickety floor, the sound of the slow moving river trickling under them. Propping Renly against the wall, he brushed his wet hair away from his face, trying to see him in the darkness.

 “You alright?” he asked as Renly lay limp, his sore arm crossed over his stomach. He’d been beaten by Twyin Lannister’s men before he fell down into the valley. Bruised and sore, he was a bit broken physically, but mentally he was still there—or so Loras hoped.

 “I’m fine. I’ve been through worse,” he said, his voice airy as he shifted. “Just need to sleep for a bit and I’ll be right as rain— no, no more rain. I’ll be good in the morning, let’s just say that.”

 Nodding, Loras patted Renly’s shoulder and got up, thighs burning and back aching as he headed out to get some supplies before finding a bit of shelter for the horses. Approaching Ricochet, he paused, brow raised as something seemed different. Staring at the saddle, he noticed something was missing… in fact, everything was missing. The saddlebags that held Renly’s money, his bedroll, his rifle, and the other saddle bag that had all his food in it—gone. Stolen, more like—taken by the men who’d beaten him. Loras had been so concerned with getting them out of that valley and away he hadn’t even bothered to check to see if they had everything.

 They’d even left their hats behind. _What sort of cowboy leaves his hat behind?_ Shaking his head, he stormed over to Daisy instead, trying not to get too angry with the situation. He was cold and sore and irritable, not to mention emotionally drained, his mind all over the place. He just wanted one thing to work out for them, but it seemed even that wasn’t possible. Grabbing his bedroll and the saddlebags, he went back to the shack, kicking the door open to see Renly had light a candle—a provision he always kept on his persons at all times. Loras was grateful for that now.

 “Here,” he said, unrolling his bedroll. “You take it.” Helping Renly on to it, he shucked off his wet jacket and rolled it up, passing it to Renly to use as a pillow. He did it all silently, jaw clenched and movements rough with the cot. But his hands were gentle when he touched Renly, feeling him trembling underneath his fingertips.

 “You’re frustrated…” Renly mumbled, curling up. He was coated in mud and soaked to the bone, but seemed happy enough to simply be lying down. The light from the candle cast shadows across his face, and Loras thought that despite it all, he looked just as handsome as ever.

 “Your stuff was taken,” Loras said, standing. If he didn’t keep moving he’d never get to the horses. “Seems like your friends decided to take everything you had before they killed you.” He didn’t wait for a reply and headed back out, wrapping his arms tightly around himself as he went to tend to the horses, his shirt his only protection from the rain and wind. He found a few small trees a short distance away that would offer some protection, and tied them up and brushed them off. Carrying their saddles back one at a time, he finally collapsed near the door, everything finished for the night.

 Sitting on his saddle, he kicked his feet out and knocked the tips of his boots together, eyes closing, a sigh slipping past his lips. “Fuck…”

 Renly grunted in agreement. “Come lie with me. Share warmth,” Renly suggested. His voice was distant, already half asleep as he lay on Loras’ small bedroll.

 It wasn’t until Renly made the suggestion of getting close did Loras think about the kiss again. Lips tingling and mouth going dry, Loras staring up at the ceiling, trying to calm the beat of his heart as it threatened to crawl up his throat and out on to the creaky floor. The suggestion was a smart one—sharing heat was the best plan for them considering they couldn’t start a fire. But Loras hesitated, dropping his head to look at his hands, all cold and pink and wet. Had Renly requested that even yesterday, Loras would have agreed with no qualms, but now…

 Now he wasn’t so sure.

 “Loras?”

 Renly’s voice broke Loras from his musings, eyes darting up to look at him on the cot. He looked so small and weak then, and the kiss was shoved aside in favour of remembering what he’d said after it. _You came back_ … Loras couldn’t leave Renly like that—cold and shivering on a cot, bruised and bloodied and unsure. Standing, he shucked off his ammo belt and guns and rested his rifle on the floor next to him, then curled up behind Renly. He went to wrap his arms around him, but remembered how carefully Renly held on to his stomach, and stopped.

 “Where are y-you hurt?” he asked, the cold in his bones making his teeth chatter as the chill had a chance to finally settle. Renly didn’t answer, and simple grabbed Loras’ hand and tugged it further around his waist. His fingers slipped in between the buttons of Renly’s shirt, and Loras felt the heat of his skin against his hand as it lay flat against Renly’s stomach.

 “T-They say the best way to stay warm is t-to get naked and cuddle with someone,” Renly said, shaking. Loras felt his cheeks flush despite the cold, and pressed his face against the back of Renly’s neck, trying to calm his breathing.

 “You’re in no condition to e-even undress yourself,” Loras mumbled. His hand stayed inside Renly’s shirt, fingers curling in to press against the skin, warming as they shared their heat.

 He _expected_ a rebuttal of some sort—a snide remark or a joke—and he _wanted_ Renly to ask him to get them both naked so they could press tight against each other, despite how terrified he was by how arousing those thoughts were.

 Instead he received a snore. Renly was past the realm of the waking.

XX

   _A hot mouth trailed down his neck, broad palms sliding across his chest and stomach. Letting out a gasp, he squeezed his eyes shut, fingers tangling in locks that slid through his fingers like silk. A comforting, heavy weight pressed his thighs open, and he shuddered as the mouth continued further down, following the path his hands had taken moments ago._

_He could feel words being whispered across his skin, nothing make sense, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, the mouth moving close and closer as his hips thrust upward, eager and ready and waiting. He stared up at the sky or the ceiling or whatever was above him—he wasn’t quite sure—anticipation and lust coursing through his system._

_‘Please,’ he panted out, and looked down between his legs just in time to see Renly’s mouth cover the head of his cock._

Waking with a start, Loras stiffened, breathing heavy and skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Eyes wide and mouth parted, he swallowed a thick was of spit and closed his mouth, breathing heavily through his nose as he stared at the wall across from him in the dark. Shifting, he could feel Renly’s back pressed against his own as he lay half on the bedroll, face pressed against the old floorboards.

 Lifting his head, he ran a shaking hand through his curls, the rush from his dream still coursing through his system, his pants tight around his groin. Letting out a frustrated grunt, he scooted further from Renly, the blush on his cheeks and the guilt in his gut refusing to leave. Standing up carefully, he grabbed his rifle and left the shack quickly. It had stopped raining at some point, the ground still wet but no longer muddy. Hefting his rifle over his shoulder, he wandered away from the shack and down a small trail where he’d tethered the horses, the light from the rising sun off in the east a comfort as he tried to get away from the dream he’d had.

 He’d had erotic dreams before, but they’d always been… vague. Hands here and mouths there, gasps and grunts and a pleasure like no other—it was common for him, only being nineteen and sexually ready. But there had never been a face. Tastes, like tobacco and peppermint sometimes found their way in his mouth and nose after a particularly vivid dream, but never a face and never a name.

 Not until tonight, that was. Loras could still feel the ghost of Renly’s lips against his own, and a shudder ran through his body as he thought about where those lips had been in his dream. His fantasy…

 “What are you doing to me, God?” he asked aloud, kicking a stone out of the way as he stood in the tall grass, watching the sun slowly rise. The warmth of the sun would reach him soon.

 It clearly stated in the bible that the love between men—the sexual love—was undesirable. A sin—a sexual act that was against nature. He wasn’t supposed to want or desire this in any way—he was supposed to want a woman; a pretty girl with a pretty smile. He was supposed to want to love and cherish her, make love to her and have children with her.

 But that was what Loras had run away from—it was what he continued to run away from. Women were pretty, to be sure, but they weren’t… handsome and wild like Renly was. They never made his heart beat faster and his mind run crazed with possibilities. They never made him excited and thrilled and want to run to the end of the earth with them—not like Renly did.

 At first Loras thought maybe he just cared for Renly like a brother, but deep down inside he knew that wasn’t the case. It had never been the case. And the kiss that they’d shared has just woken everything he’d been keeping deep inside himself. He wanted Renly—he craved him, both his mind and body. He wanted to see him naked and feel his skin against his hands. He wanted to feel his lips against his own again. He wanted to make Renly his and he wanted to be Renly’s in return.

 But Loras couldn’t do that; he shouldn’t even be thinking all of these sinful thoughts. It was wrong.

 But God had brought Renly to him in the first place… and God had brought Loras back to him—guided his path and saw to it that they were together again. And Loras was pretty sure God said something about how you shouldn’t murder people, and yet Loras and thousands of other men did it all the time, for reasons mostly to do with greed. They didn’t sin for love, something that was pure and desperately needed in a place like this, no matter how it manifested itself.

 Sighing, he continued on his trek through the field of grass that became sparser the further he ventured away from the riverbed and back into the desert. He didn’t want to think about it or wrestle with it or deal with it in any way. He had more pressing matters, like the sudden lack of money and food and anonymity that they’d need to travel anywhere substantial. Or the fact that Renly was physically broken.

 And mentally, thanks to Loras’ pettiness and insensitivity. Loras still did not know why Renly panicked so much when he said he was leaving, but the sorrow and desperation in Renly’s voice and eyes continued to haunt Loras, along with the feel of his lips and the taste of him on his pallet…

 Letting out a frustrated growl, he stormed back to the shack, angry with their lack of supplies, the mystery surrounding Renly and the fact that he wanted to be with him on every level when he knew he shouldn’t be.

 And the fact that they’d lost their goddamn hats.

 He knew he’d never be able to sleep after his dream, and instead decided to clean off in the river, the mud having now dried to rub against his skin, chaffing him and making him itch. Placing his gun against a boulder, he stripped down quickly and waded into the murky, slow moving water, relishing in how cold it was—a stark contrast to the heat he’d felt after waking from his dream. He bathed quickly, scrubbing the mud off best he could, getting clots of whatever it was in his curls out, hoping he looked somewhat presentable as he clambered out of the river, mud squelching between his toes on the bank.

 Eying his dirty clothes, he debated going into the shack to grab his only somewhat clean pair of pants (his other shirt being used by Renly after his was ruined by blood), but the chill from being in the exposed air with the sun barely in the sky made him reach for the clothes that were coated in dirt. Bushing them off best he could, he’d just managed to do up the buckle on his belt when the creak of the shack door was heard, followed by the appearance of Renly coming around the side.

  Hair tangled and matted, bags the size of wagon wheels under his eyes, and hunched over like an old man, Renly looked like shit.

 “You look like shit,” Loras said, wringing his hair out. Renly just grinned and shuffled over to Loras, the sun on his face a welcome sight from the darkness that was cast over him all yesterday.

 “Feel like shit, too. But I’ll live.” He patted Loras’ shoulder as he passed and sat down on the boulder near the stream. Loras wondered if Renly was going to say anything about yesterday—about the kiss and the comments about getting naked together. But he didn’t, and instead asked about food.

 “We’re low on supplies,” Loras explained. “You had enough for yourself for a bit, and I had enough for myself, but with your stash gone we’re out of luck, unless I can manage to shoot something. We’re also low on money and pretty much every other thing you can think of.”

 “Smokes?”

 “I have a few of those.” Reaching into his pocket, he passed one to Renly and light a match for him. He could feel Renly’s breath tickle the top of his thumb as he accepted the light. “We should stay here for a bit until you’re healed. Then we can… go somewhere.”

 Loras wanted to say north, but stopped at the last minute. It had become almost a habit—a mantra to Loras. Go north, go north, after this we’ll go north. North, north, north.

 Renly nodded and puffed on his smoke, staring out at the water. “No food… little bit of money… and no hats. We’re a real duo, Loras, I tell yah.” Despite what he was saying, there was amusement in his tone, and Loras couldn’t help but smile, the awkwardness between them gone as Renly smiled and cracked a joke.

 Loras ended up giving Renly some dried meat he had in his pouch, but did not eat himself, wanting to save the food for when he needed it the most. He was hungry, but he wasn’t starving. As Renly chewed on the meat, Loras took a look at his arm, noticing that he needed his bandages changed else the wound would get infected. But Renly seemed to want to be clean all over, and Loras helped him strip down so he could bathe in the river.

 As his clothes were removed, piece by piece, Loras tried not to frown as the bruises were exposed to him. Purple and black, they lined his stomach where hits had been applied, and the one over his eye looked angrier than it had been yesterday. He didn’t think about how Renly was naked in front of him as he helped, too caught up in the cuts and bruises that marred his flesh, that familiar sense of guilt as well as anger welling up inside him. Guilt for what he’d caused, and anger for who had caused these marks and this abuse.

 Renly bathed quickly and hurried back on to shore just as Loras had finished cleaning part of his rifle, eyes darting up every so often to make sure Renly hadn’t fallen in and drowned. Placing his gun to the side, he was about to help Renly with his clothes when a hand stopped him. Firm and in control, Loras could feel the heat of his palm through the coldness of the water, and looked up at him, their eyes locking.

 “Comb my hair?” Renly asked. Loras nodded and dropped the clothing. Climbing up on to the rock, Renly basked in the rays of the sun as it rose higher in the sky, the day promising to be warm. Loras tried not to think about the fact that Renly was still naked and exposed and wearing wounds he shouldn’t be, and instead ran his fingers through his tangled black locks, trying to be as gentle as possible.

 Nothing was said as Loras got to work, the sound of the birds and the rush of the river the only noise around them. Watching his fingers card through the black strands with deliberate ease, he let the simple motion carry him away, eyelids drooping as he relaxed into it.

 “I grew up north… born in a cabin in the woods to a mother I never got to know.” Renly’s voice was quiet, and Loras felt like he had to stop breathing to hear him. For a second he thought he’d heard things and that Renly was as silent as ever, the only whispers that of the bubbles that formed between the rocks on the shore, but Renly started up again just as Loras began braiding his hair again. “I don’t remember much of my parents… they both died when I was a baby. A boating accident, apparently—there were nasty rapids or… or something. They drowned and I was left to be raised by a family friend we called are Uncle who was too old, and two brothers who were too young…

 “My oldest brother, Robert, was eighteen and a man when my parents died, and felt he needed to… I don’t know, protect us. My other brother Stannis… he was seventeen but still a boy trying to be a man. At least, that’s how I remember them.” Renly trailed off for a bit, head bowed as Loras finished the braid. Pulling a piece of string from his pocket, Loras wrapped it around the tip, letting Renly take his time with the tale, repeating the names ‘Robert’ and ‘Stannis’ in his head, over and over again. Renly had family… Renly had connections and a past and a life before all of this. Renly wasn’t just some phantom or a tale spun out of nothing more than a novel.

 “I… came to the south when I was young after things happened… after people left, either because they didn’t care anymore or they died, too old or stupid to carry on. I promised myself I wouldn’t get attached to anyone because all I ever knew was abandonment, and just… sort of tumbled along, trying to find my footing…” he snorted, “I was twelve when I left that little cabin in the woods. Twelve fucking years old…”

 Loras finished tying the string, making a neat bow, everything fitting into place as Renly opened up just for a moment. He was still holding back and there were more questions than answers, but Loras had been given a peak—a small glimpse into the enigma that was the stag perched before him on a rock, completely bare in every way.

 Tucking the braid over Renly’s shoulder, he let his hand linger over the tight muscles, rubbing his thumb up the side of his neck. Renly stayed silent, his hand lifting to rest overtop Loras’ own, grabbing his fingers and holding on tight—tighter than what was comfortable, but Loras didn’t dare move, the pain secondary to what Renly must have been feeling.

 “We don’t have to go north,” he finally said when he realized Renly was done speaking.

 Renly shook his head, the braid sliding across their joined hands before resting against the back of his neck. “No… no we’ll go north,” he said, resolve and strength back in his voice. “We’ll go north. Together.”

 And Loras trusted him this time.


	15. Belief in Angels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own them
> 
> Warning: Graphic MalexMale sex
> 
> Authors Note: Finally...

 They said that cleanliness was next to godliness, and Renly and Loras held that quote true to their hearts. Both of them being young and vain and appreciative of beauty, they lasted two days in grubby clothes and hair on their chins before they both went crazed at being so unkempt. Agreeing to divide the chores, Renly went off to a small town with a bit of money to buy a tin of shave-cream, while Loras stayed behind and washed his shirt.

 Rubbing the cloth against a stone in the riverbank, Loras tried not to think about how the water was seeping into the butt of his pants, and just enjoyed the monotony the movement of rubbing the cloth against the stone offered. Their clothing was usually a little bit covered in dust from the road, and occasionally powders from guns and rifles, but they were never coated in brown dirt that had once been mud, some of it mixed with blood.

 They had spent two days at the shack, trying to re-group after the emotional and physical day they’d had. Loras had managed to shoot a small rabbit last night, and while it did not provide too much meat, it lifted their spirits enough for them to decide to do something—anything.

 Apparently that something was to get clean.

 Loras did not mind, really. They could think about more pressing matters, like how to get some money and food and enough supplies to head north, later on. For now, they’d just recover and enjoy the simplicity that the shack near the river offered.

 “Look what I got!” Renly’s voice broke over the babble of the river, the silence Loras had been cherishing for the last two hours gone. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Renly approaching him with a can of shave-cream in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other.

 “You didn’t waste our money on alcohol, did you?” Loras asked, a brow quirked. _What is he thinking?_

“No, I won it!” Renly said, sitting down beside Loras, further away from the water so he didn’t get too wet. “I was walking past a saloon when I saw these men doing some target practice behind the place with some cans. I bet I could hit all of them in a row, and that if I won they’d give me their bottle of whiskey. I guess they thought because I’ve got my arm all wrapped up I’d be useless, but it looks like the arm is healing better than we both thought, because I shot true.”

 Grinning, Loras rung the shirt out and dropped it on to the stone. Reaching for the bottle, he looked it over, pleased with Renly’s small victory. It was good to see Renly more in control—more like he was before Loras left. Ever since Renly’s opened up to Loras on the boulder in the sun, he’d been quieter than usual, no doubt lost in memories. But here he was, smiling and gloating over a small victory. It was good.

 “We’ll have some of it tonight after I shoot us a substantial beast to eat,” Loras said, winking and passing the bottle back to Renly.

 “Oh, a substantial beast? And what would that beast be?”

 “I’ve seen some deer jumping around here,” he said, ringing out his shirt again before standing to go and rest it on the deck in the sun. “If I can get us a small one we’d have some meat to eat and a pelt to sell.”

 Turning around, he wasn’t too surprised to see Renly had followed him. He felt his eyes roaming over his bare chest and tried not to blush, Renly’s gaze sliding all the way down to the edge of his pants before flicking back up to his eyes, a sly grin on his face. It was just another thing that had changed between them. Renly would look at Loras in a different way—with desire and a bit of playfulness that spoke of sinful pleasures and untold ecstasy. But he never did anything. He’d just _look_ at Loras. Waiting for something and letting Loras know he was ready for whatever that something was.

 But Loras never gave him anything but a smile and a blush. If Renly was deterred by Loras’ avoidance, he never showed it. Apparently he was a patient man, and Loras was grateful for that. He was still wrestling with his new found feelings, everything he’d been told as a kid coming to a head with what he wanted now. He prayed to God almost every night asking for guidance, but he never received it and was left to wander alone in his confusion and conflictions.

 “Take your shirt off and I’ll wash it for you,” he said instead, dropping the can down beside his drying shirt. Renly did as he was told, movements a bit slow as he revealed the now yelling bruises on his stomach, a wince at the end as he shrugged off his left sleeve to expose the healing bullet wound. Taking the shirt that was offered to him, Loras stepped forward and touched the side of the cut, inspecting it to see if it was healing alright. He could feel Renly’s breath on his shoulder, but ignored the pleasant sensation. “It’s healing well…”

 “Good—soon I’ll be functioning enough I can help you when we actually go on the road again,” Renly said, rolling his shoulder. Nodding, Loras pushed Renly’s hand away as he went to ruffle his curls, ducking under his arm before heading back to the river to clean his shirt off.

 Once the shirt was clean and drying beside Loras’ on the deck, they sat down on some crates that rested against the side of the shack and opened the tin, a small knife in Loras’ grasp as he picked a bit of the cream up with his finger. “We don’t have a mirror.”

 “So shave me and I’ll shave you… at least, what little hair you’ve got. You’re like a little babe with your clean, fresh face—“ Shoving his fingers overtop Renly’s mouth, Loras glared at him as he lathered the cream and water mixture over his jaw and down his neck, effectively shutting him up. Just because he couldn’t grow a beard properly did not mean Renly could tease him for it.

 Loras should have punched him in the arm right over the wound for that one.

 Instead he titled Renly’s head to the side and pressed the blade gently against his skin, shaving away the hair with practiced ease. They’d done this before, Loras having asked a few months into traveling together. He thought it would be a good test of trust—to glide the blade so close to Renly’s neck, overtop thin skin and delicate veins. Renly allowed him, a flash of hesitation in his gaze before he passed the blade over and sat in front of Loras, willing and eager.

 Since then it had become a custom of theirs, one they did when they needed something simple and slow and, now that Loras thought about it, intimate.

 “Are you part bear?” Loras asked, teasing. “Because you could grow a beard that would rival most bears out there.”

 “You haven’t even seen a bear, how would you know?” Renly retorted, lips tight as Loras worked under his chin.

 “Will I see one when we go north?” he asked instead, curious and also excited. He’d always wanted to see the big beasts that lived up north, like bears and wolves and cougars. Maybe he’d even shoot one. Imagine that—shooting down a bear and claiming its pelt…

 “I hope not. They can be nasty and kill you in a second.” Shifting, Renly tilted his head to the side as the blade crossed along his cheek, taking the hair and cream away smoothly. “I’d rather we not be killed by a bear.”

 “Mm, I’d rather we not be killed period,” Loras mumbled, concentrating on the task at hand. Brushing the used cream off of the blade on his handkerchief, he worked on the other side, enjoying how Renly’s eyes closed and body relaxed.

 “Me either. Let’s become immortal.”

 Snorting, Loras nodded. “Alright, sounds like a good plan.”

 Once Loras was finished he admired Renly’s face. With the stubble gone he looked less haggard than before, despite the fading bruise around his eye and the gauntness to his cheeks from the stress of the week. He looked has handsome as ever, and Loras couldn’t resist moving in to kiss his cheek gently. The skin was soft and warm against his lips, and he could feel Renly lean into it, the ghost of a smile against the side of Loras’ head.

 Pulling away, he let Renly play with a curl near his ear, tugging it playfully before taking the blade from Loras. “Right, it’s time for you and what little hair you have on your upper lip. Are you sure you’re nineteen, because I’ve seen sixteen year olds with more hair on their chest than you.”

 This time Loras did punch his arm.

XX

“Do you believe in God?”

 Renly glanced over his shoulder and stared at Loras, stopping in the middle of the field. The light from the moon cast shadows on his face, and Loras couldn’t read his expression. “What?”

 “God—do you believe in God?” he asked, wandering over to stand in front of him. Resting his rifle over his shoulder he grabbed the bottle of whiskey from his hand and took a quick swig of it, the liquid burning a trail down his throat. “I mean, I never see you pray or anything…”

 Renly shrugged. Looking up at the sky, he seemed to count the stars before answering. “I don’t think I do… no, not really. Never went to church, never prayed, and never thought I needed to. I like to think that everything just happens because it does—not rhyme of reason to it all. Makes life more exciting when you think about how we’re all one astonishing accident on the universe’s part.” Dropping his head back down, he lazily rolled it to the side and grinned at Loras. “But you’ve made me believe in angels.”

 Rolling his eyes, Loras playfully shoved him. He’d heard that line used a thousand times in the different bars and saloons they’d visited over the year, only it was usually muttered to a lady of disrepute by a man of equal standing. Ignoring the comment, he continued on with their discussion about God, finding it hard to believe that Renly didn’t… well, _believe_. “So you’ve never believed? Not once?” he asked as they continued wandering under the dark sky, the night silent and calm. They’d gone out hunting, but it had turned more into the two of them just wandering, talking about this and that.

 “Nah, I haven’t. If there is a God, he wasn’t too kind to me as a child. Taking my parents from me and leaving me all alone doesn’t really inspire the highest of confidence in any higher powers. Besides, your religion has crazy rules.”

 “How so?”

 Taking the bottle back from Loras, Renly took another sip and brushed the back of his hand against his lips. “Well if I read correctly, you can’t eat stuff from the sea or something. And you’re also supposed to be able to keep slaves and that just isn’t right. And then there is the bit about not being able to love certain people… I think if there is a God, he’d be appalled by the rules made under his name. Because the way I see it, if he’s really as all loving as you claim him to be, he’d be alright with me kissing you and saying I love you.”

 Loras stopped then, cheeks flushing as Renly exposed the truth behind Loras’ questions. He wanted to defend himself and say that wasn’t what he was asking; he wanted to tell Renly that his religion wasn’t as bad as he made him out to be; he wanted to tell him that he found truth in his words despite how they went against everything he’d believed in. Instead he asked another question. “You love me?”

 It was innocent in the way he said it—as if he didn’t know this already and hadn’t been cherishing it. Loras knew Renly loved him; he’d known for months now. And he loved him in return.

 Renly just smiled, carefree and endearing. “Of course I do. And you love me—you just haven’t admitted it yet. I can wait, though, because I know one day you’ll tell me. Just remember, Little Rose—if you’re God loves you, he won’t mind it if you share a bit of your love with me. At least, if he’s as good as you say he is.”

 They didn’t say anything as they walked back to the shack, Loras deep in thought as he pondered God’s love and his own heart. They made a small fire near the deck and sat beside it, chewing on some more dried meat. Loras was getting sick of the taste of salt on his pallet, but did not taste it this time as he stared into the flames.

 Renly was right. Who was to say what God thought about love? Loras loved Renly—he knew this. And love was love, right? No matter the form it came in, so long as there was mutual respect and desire… it shouldn’t matter, should it?

 “I think I’m ready to start traveling tomorrow,” Renly said, Loras still staring at the flames. “We can see what money we can scrounge up as we travel on the road—maybe run into another salesman who could use help lightening his load. Or I can try my luck at poker… We also need to buy some hats. I feel stupid wandering around with no fucking hat.”

 Loras hummed, Renly’s heat beside him hotter than the flames before him. Leaning against him, he thought about the kiss they’d shared—how good it felt. How right it felt. How he wanted to feel it again. His heart rate increased just thinking about it, and a sudden sense of spontaneity grabbed hold of him. _It doesn’t matter…_

Shifting, he turned to face Renly and grabbed the bandana around his neck, hooking his fingers under it before tugging him close. He didn’t even wait for his mind to catch up to his actions and pressed forward, his lips covering Renly’s own. It was harsh and awkward, Loras not yet knowing how to properly kiss someone as he crashed their lips together. But the feeling of Renly’s lips against his own brushed away any trepidation he was feeling, the hesitation he’d had about kissing Renly again all but gone, feeling like he could finally _breathe_ after being underwater for so long.

 It didn’t last long. Loras pulled away when he realized he had no idea what he was doing. Hand shaking and cheeks flushed, he stayed close, eyes locked with Renly’s as they firelight danced across his features. Nothing was said, and Loras thought perhaps it had been so terrible that Renly realized he didn’t want to kiss him again. After all, he practically crashed their lips together in an almost painful way.

 But then Renly was smiling and Loras found himself returning it, relief flooding through him. Knocking their foreheads together gently, Renly’s hand came to tangle in his hair, a broad palm cupping his cheek as their noses nuzzled and eyes closed. Lips parting in anticipation, Loras shifted closer as Renly’s breath tickled his skin, the smell of whiskey and tobacco invading his senses. Renly’s lips brushed against his own—gentle and explorative—and Loras let out a soft puff of air, a whimper slipping past as Renly kissed him again.

 It was slow and steady, Loras trying to match Renly’s movements as their lips pressed and slid together. Opening his mouth further, he caught Renly’s bottom lip and kissed it, sucking on it gently, earning himself a surprised gasp. He couldn’t help but smile as Renly reacted to what _he_ was doing. His heart still felt like it was going to crawl out of his throat, but it was a good sensation—an exciting one that made Loras bold as he pressed a little harder, wanting more.

 Renly pressed back too, tilting his head to the side to deepen the kiss. Removing his hand from the bandana, Loras noticed he was trembling as he pressed the palm of his hand against the side of Renly’s neck, fingers touching the soft hairs at the nap. Renly broke the kiss then, the two parting but staying close, their breath mixing.

 Opening his eyes, Loras looked down, the light highlighting the bit of spit clinging to his full lips. He didn’t give Renly any time to say something before he was going back in, greedy for more, wanting everything Renly had to offer. Renly seemed more than willing, and kissed Loras back with just as much fervor, the passion between them increasing. Renly’s fingers were hot against the back of his scalp, and Loras could feel fingertips massaging the skin gently, slow and rhythmic and intoxicating.

 In a bold move, Loras broke them apart only to climb half on top of Renly’s lap, making it so they were facing each other, necks no longer twisted to the side as their lips met again. The fire warmed his back while Renly’s heat kept his chest warm, Loras surrounded by heat on all sides. As they kissed, Renly’s hands began to roam, sliding over his back, up and down and up and down, before going to grasp his ass through his jeans just as his tongue pressed against the seam of his lips.

 Gasping, Loras let out a low moan as Renly’s tongue flicked inside his mouth experimentally, Loras’ hips bucked forward of their own accord. Loras could feel his cock growing hard in his pants, begging for release as it strained against the trousers. He hadn’t planned for it to go this far—he just wanted to kiss Renly and taste him on his lips once more. But the desire that before had been a small, manageable flame, has turned into a wildfire in a second, Loras throwing caution to the wind as he got lost in it all.

 Renly continued to kiss Loras, sure and steady, unlike Loras who had begun to tremble with need and nerves, one hand braced on his shoulder while the other stayed tangling in his hair, pulling strands out of the messy braid they’d been placed in. Breaking the kiss, Loras was left gasping, staring at Renly, their eyes locked. Letting out a shuddering breath, he moved closer still, sitting almost between Renly’s legs. Still nothing was said, and yet Renly seemed to know what Loras wanted.

  _Please…_

 Bringing a hand between them, Loras closed his eyes and listened to the clink of his belt buckle as it was opened and shoved aside, followed by the pop of the buttons on his pants. Breath hitching, he clung to Renly as a steady, warm hand slipped into his pants to grasp his cock. Just the simple sensation of having Renly’s hand around his cock was like nothing else to Loras. Warm and calloused, it cradled his prick, thumb rubbing against the head gently, getting him harder and harder with each movement. Never in Loras’ wild fantasies did he ever think it would feel this good. His nerves felt like they were on fire, and he clung to Renly as his cock was fondled, hand pushing further down to massage his balls as best he could in the tight confines of his pants.

 “Lift yourself up slightly,” Renly panted out, voice heavy with lust. Doing as he instructed, Loras rose, hands still squeezed tight over Renly’s shoulders, using him as support. Renly’s hands tugged his pants down then, and Loras sat back down as soon as his cock bounced out and his ass was exposed. The heat from the fire kept the chill away and yet still Loras couldn’t help but shiver as his prick was exposed to the night air.

 Pressing his face against the crook of Renly’s neck, Loras let out another soft moan as Renly began to stroke his now free cock, steady and patient and _so good_. Loras was harder than he’d ever been in his life as he bucked into Renly’s hand, Renly knowing exactly what to do as he pleasured him, thumb collecting precum and swirling it around the head before he started jerking him faster. The sound of flesh against flesh and the pounding of the blood through his head was all Loras could hear as he edged closer to his orgasm, Renly’s other hand sliding around to massage his back and bare ass, everything about his touch gentle and soothing.

 It only took a few more swipes and Loras was coming, eyes squeezing shut and body shuddering, clinging to Renly, mind blown as he worked through the pleasure, ribbons of cum coating Renly’s hand, some of it landing on their shirts, staining their clothes.

 Loras couldn’t think about what had happened or what was happening as he came down from the rush, limply lying against Renly. It was all too surreal to him as he sat with his back to the fire, the afterglow humming along his body while his semen cooled and grew sticky. He kept his face pressed against Renly’s neck, the feel of Renly’s pulse against his lips, hard and fast. It was then that he realized Renly was just as hard as he was, his own pleasures denied in favour of making Loras feel good.

 Without a second thought, Loras pulled away slightly, only to flip the golden belt buckle with the trademark stag antlers open, and pop the buttons of his pants undone. That was when Renly’s hand grasped his wrist, holding him in place gently. Loras could feel the stickiness of himself on Renly’s hand.

 “You sure?” Renly asked, voice rough with need and eyes swirling with lust.

 Loras nodded. “I want to,” he said, meaning it. He wanted to give Renly the same amount of pleasure, even though he knew he wouldn’t be as good as Renly was. He’d get there, though, if Renly would let him practice on him. Loras was a perfectionist, and sex would be no different, he surmised.

 Nodding, Renly moved, pulling his pants down to his thighs, releasing his cock before sitting on his legs, keeping his ass lifted from the dirt, his cock and balls exposed to Loras. Staring down at his hard cock, Loras let out a soft moan, entranced by it. He’d never felt any desire for the female form, but the sight of another man’s arousal—the sight of Renly’s arousal—made Loras’ flaccid cock twitch once more. Long and hard and thick, Loras had seen Renly’s penis, but never like this—never aching and ready, the head red and swollen and glistening with pre-cum, while his balls sat tight and pert, ready for release. He wanted to continue to admire, but he could tell Renly wasn’t going to be patient for much longer, and Loras took a deep breath before grasping his cock.

 His prick was warm and smooth in his hand, and he could feel the beat of Renly’s heart in the main vein—fast and pounding. Sliding his hand down, he began to work him, keeping in mind how he masturbated and applying it to Renly, just at a different angle. The little sounds Renly was making because of what he was doing was pleasing to Loras, and he stroked Renly faster, watching how his hips began to thrust upward of their own accord, balls bouncing. Renly was busy watching Loras’ hand, but Loras watched Renly’s face, bottom lip sucked in between his teeth as he let out a low, steady moan, eyes squeezing shut as he panted out a warning.

 Loras just moved his hand faster, and watched as Renly finally reached his climax, thighs tensing and head falling back between his shoulders as he ground his hips upward into Loras’ hand. Fingers getting coated with semen, Loras watched and listened, entranced by the sight before him.

 Once Renly was done, he collapsed on to the ground, obviously not caring that his bare ass was pressed into the dirt around the campfire. They just sat there, neither saying anything as their bodies relaxed and the chill from the air slid across their groins and exposed legs, both trembling from what had just happened.

 Finally after what seemed like an eternity to Loras, Renly broke out into a smile, one that he returned, followed by a laugh—one of victory and triumph, joy and happiness. And Loras returned it as well.


	16. Bullets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine
> 
> Warning: Mentions of rape, torture and death
> 
> Authors Note: You got a happy sexy chapter last week, this week I remind you that this is the Wild West in all her... 'glory'.

 Hefting his saddle up on Daisy’s back, Loras shifted it around, getting it into position as it rested on top the blanket. Working from memory, he belted up the straps under her, years of experience making it a quick and simple process for the both of them. As soon as the sun had begun to rise Loras was out with the horses, getting them ready to leave. He was eager to be on the move again, having become accustomed to the constant wandering he’d done over the past year. While it was nice to rest and recuperate for a while, seeing the same landscape in front of him every day had begun to make him antsy.

 It wasn’t until he had finished and was giving Ricochet a nice scratch under the jaw did Renly finally appear. Sauntering out of the shack, he wandered over to Loras, a lazy grin on his face as he carried their half empty bottle of whiskey.

 “You almost forgot this,” he said, shoving it in Daisy’s increasingly empty saddlebags. For a second Loras thought Renly was drunk, but then he was pulled into a morning kiss, he tasted nothing but the usual tobacco and peppermint.

 “I forgot it because it takes up too much room,” he mumbled when Renly pulled away, a smile on his lips.

 “It’s not for drinking… well, not only for drinking. It’s for disinfecting,” Renly explained, tugging a curl before kissing him again slowly. He was still getting used to kissing in general, but he was quickly becoming accustomed to it, Renly more than willing to practice with him. Yesterday they lay in the sun near the river for hours, just exchanging kisses and smiles.

 Loras thought it would be awkward in the morning after they’d slept together, but it wasn’t at all. In fact, it felt so natural Loras wondered if it was always supposed to be like this. In the morning they simple woken and slipped right into their usual roles of being best friends and partners. Only now kisses were exchanged freely, and the feel of Renly’s cock in his hand was no longer just a fantasy but a real and solid memory, one he wished to repeat as soon as possible.

 Any time Loras thought about their night together and the fact that they were like this—arms locked around each other and lips pressed together—he couldn’t help but smile, a sense of giddiness coming over him as he fully embraced the fact that he was in love, something he had never experienced before, despite trying his hardest to back at the ranch when he was expected to walk down an aisle that made him feel only cold dread. Not love.  

He suspected Sansa had loved him in her own little way. She was in love with what he _represented_ —the ideal that he was. A young, handsome, rich ranch boy with a proper life in the south, filled with refinement despite being in the Wild West. He was everything the girls had dreamed about when they thought about marrying a nice boy, and no doubt Sansa thought he was exactly what she’d always wanted.

 He hoped she realized that what she felt wasn’t love. They didn’t have the time to make it anything more than simple friendship because Loras knew it was never going to _be_ anything more than friendship—at least, on his part. He never felt excited to see her nor nervous; he never felt like he’d burst anytime she so much as touched him, even if it was the simple brush of their hands; and she never kept him enamoured with her words and her passion. She was pretty and smart and a darling woman.

 But she wasn’t Renly. She wasn’t a kiss that tasted of experience and wildness. Her touches weren’t demanding and powerful, the softness of her hands paling in comparison to the callouses on Renly’s fingertips and how they felt when brushing across his jaw. She didn’t make Loras want to be the fastest and the best—not like Renly did.

 Renly was what love was to Loras. He encompassed it all, and Loras cherished the fact that he wasn’t so blind and headstrong to believe that this was a sin. He was glad he jumped for it and took what he wanted; not shying away from what could be _it_.

 “Can we stay one more day?” Renly asked when they broke apart, only to go in for another kiss immediately afterward, distracting Loras. “We could become hermits.” Another kiss. “Live on the riverbank where no one will bother us.”

 The next kiss was unhurried but passionate, Renly’s tongue sliding into Loras’ mouth to explore with leisure, making Loras moan softly, hands gripping the back of Renly’s shirt as he tried to keep up with him. He hadn’t bothered to ask Renly how he got so good at it all, but he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know. He liked to imagine Renly was just as inexperienced as he was and that they were learning this together, but it was hard to fool himself as Renly sucked on his tongue and tickled the nap of his neck with deft fingers.

 “What do you say?” Renly asked after they’d broken apart. Dazed, Loras stared at Renly’s lips a moment, entranced and wanting more, before the need to get moving pushed through the haze of lust.

 “No, we need to get going,” he said a little regretfully. “I might go crazy if we stay another day. Besides, food is low…” He hated being the voice of reason but realized that it was needed. If Renly had it his way they’d starve out there just for the sake of lounging around and kissing. Loras grew frustrated if he was tied down for too long, and he pushed away from Renly and climbed up on Daisy, separating them so he wouldn’t be lulled back. “Come on, let’s go.”

 Sighing dramatically, Renly got up on Ricochet and followed Loras out of the small grove they’d kept their horses. “You need to learn to slow down and appreciate the simple things in life,” Renly drawled out.

 “I’ve been living the slow and simple part of life for too long. This is where the adventure is at—this is where I want to be,” he said, gesturing out at the field and desert. “I want to keep going, Renly. I want to see it all before death catches up to me. We have time to rest when we’re in the grave.”

 “Yes, yes,” Renly mumbled, sighing again. “Living your life, having adventures—it’s all very well and good. Wake me when you’ve adventured yourself out and you can come and relax with me.” Winking, Loras shoved him playfully as they wandered down the road to the town Renly had visited to buy the shave-cream. They hoped that they’d be able to scrounge up some money in town so they could buy some much needed supplies, but Renly also seemed to hope that he could win a bit of cash and other trinkets to sell if he had a good game of poker to play.

 Loras just hoped for something eventful to happen in order to convince himself that his idea was better than Renly’s, the notion of staying at the shack and screwing all day becoming more and more tempting the further they traveled from the river.

XX

 This was not the sort of event Loras had been expecting nor hoping for.

 Renly had spotted something first. It was an upturned wagon off in the middle of a clearing, a bit of smoke curling up from behind it while a few masses lay around it. The closer they got Loras realized the two largest lumps were dead horses, a bit gaunt but otherwise healthy-- save for the bullets in their heads.

 But they weren’t the only dead bodies. Littering the clearing was a family—a husband, a wife, and two daughters. All of them murdered in cold blood. Renly did not want to look at the scene, the blood pooling all over the ground and the cuts all over their bodies too much for him to handle, but Loras did not listen to his misgivings and slipped off of Daisy, in a daze as he approached the scene.

  _What sort of sick monsters would do this?_ While Loras had killed and stolen, he never targeted those who were innocent. They never went after a fucking family that was heading back from town, wagon filled with supplies; they never raped and beat the women and tortured the men; and they certainly never did it for kicks. Approaching the other side of the wagon, Loras stared at the items that had poured out of it—grain and feed and some farm equipment. All of it left behind. Whoever did this had done it for fun, not for profit.

 “Loras…” He could hear Renly calling him, firmly sitting on Ricochet, avoiding the scene at all costs as he watched Loras pick his way through the debris. There was no smell—not yet—and Loras pulled off one of his gloves to touch the side of the man’s neck, feeling the skin. He was still a bit warm, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the sun or not. But this was recent—in the last hour or so, before the scavengers could arrive to pick them apart.

 Sighing, he wandered over to the girls who lay a distance away, skirts pulled up in a demeaning manner. They were all cut up, faces covered in scratches and bruises that had time to form before they were shot in the head. One of the girls looked a bit like Margaery, and Loras felt a swell of anger. Clenching his jaw, he carefully pushed their skirts back down to cover them up, and buttoned up their blouses, hands shaking as he tried to not look at their faces and see his sister once more.

 Standing, he wandered over to the wagon again, keeping himself composed as he picked up a shovel that had fallen from the cart and stormed over to the middle of the clearing, pushing the end of the shovel into the ground, wiggling it around a bit to see if the ground was forgiving enough to begin digging a large hole.

 “What are you doing?” Renly called, still avoiding the scene.

 “Digging their graves,” he said, shucking some dirt out. He heard Renly get off then, the crunch of stone under his feet getting louder as he neared. Still Loras dug, unable to stand the thought of these people just lying under the sun to rot and be picked apart by buzzards and coyotes. They deserved better—they were just a family. _Just a fucking family, goddamn it._

 “Hey—hey, Loras,” Renly’s hand was on his arm, squeezing down gently, reassuring despite the pressure. Stopping what he was doing, he turned and looked at Renly, the shovel dug deep into the ground.

 “What?” he bit out, wanting to just get this _done_. He could see the girls out of the corner of his eye, and looked back down at the small pile of dirt he’d made, preferring the sight of a grave to the sight of the dead.

 “You keep digging that fast and that hard and you’ll be too overworked to finish. Go a bit slower… I’ll help you.” Renly’s voice was calm and even, a contrast to Loras’ very visible frustration. Loras wanted to yell at Renly for being so calm—for taking the sight before them with stride. But he knew that would get them nowhere, and he simply nodded, appreciative of the offer to help.

 “There is another shovel in the wagon—I saw it,” he said, the sun beating down on the back of his neck. He numbly thought about how this would be easier if he had a hat…

 The two worked on the graves—all of them shallow, but the best they could do with what they had to work with. It wasn’t until the sun had begun to go down in the sky did they finally lay them to rest, working as gently as possible to put them in their respective graves, all four of them side by side. They then covered the dug up ground with stones they’d collected from the desert floor, backs and legs aching, but neither of them faltering. Renly stayed quiet the entire time, and only gagged once as they lifted the husband up and saw the back of his skull was smashed in.

 Making crosses out of the wood from the wagon, Loras jammed them in place in a neat row, before going to stand in front of the graves, the sun low in the sky, colouring it in pinks, purples and blues. He said a small prayer for them, holding on to his cross with dirty fingers, rubbing the metal as he sought comfort in his God. Only he couldn’t find any today, not when God had looked down and did nothing to stop this-- this immoral, monstrous act.

 Maybe the rumours were true. Maybe the devil did walk among the outlaws, dressed as an ordinary man with a pocket watch that counted down the minutes until he tempted another to carry out his evil sins. Or maybe the devil was really just a mortal man who had lost his moral compass long ago.

 Either way, Loras knew he’d find no comfort in God so long as he stood on ground that had drank the blood of the family now lying under dirt and stone, never to see the glorious sunset he was basking in.

 “Let’s go,” Loras said, turning and heading back to the horses, kicking a stone out of the way.

 “You’re done your prayers?” Renly asked.

 “No use in finishing them. God isn’t listening today.”  

XX

 Sometimes Loras forgot that not all outlaws were like Renly. He’d been fortunate enough to be spotted by Renly and taken in by his gang, and while they never always saw eye to eye, Loras had never had to argue with any of them about killing innocent folk. Loras heard rumours about Greyjoy’s record with treating the women in the brothels and how he was none too kind, and he’d heard about how Ygritte had probably killed more men than all of them in an attempt to keep her little rag-tag group of travelers safe. But that all paled in comparison to the useless and merciless slaughter of innocent people just for a bit of fun.

 Renly had tried to cheer Loras up on their way to the town, but Loras refused to be appeased, anger and frustration boiling away inside him. The need to just shoot or hit something was churning around inside him, making his fingers twitch over the revolver at his side, almost aching to pull it on someone—preferably the son of the a bitch who’d killed the family.

 Renly had called him naïve a short moment about, which was why Loras wasn’t talking to him as he picked at the dirt under his nails, the town in sight as Daisy walked toward it with little need for guidance. He wasn’t naïve—he knew how the world worked. He just refused to be numb to it all. Renly may have been able to close himself off, but Loras wasn’t, and he didn’t _want_ to be. He could think of little worse than losing your passion and becoming fine with seeing such barbaric acts. But as they hitched their horses up outside the hotel, the tinker of piano music coming through and the promise of a place to sit coaxing him inside, he couldn’t help but smile as Renly practically bounded into the place, also eager to sit and relax after digging graves all afternoon.

 The saloon wasn’t too busy and they found a seat at the end of the bar, Loras figuring they earned a shot of tequila each despite the tight purse strings. While Loras had brought money with him, he’d only brought enough for him to travel for a few weeks. Alone. With Renly added in, they were going to have to make a few extra dollars if they wanted to make it anywhere close to the Texas border.

 It was frustrating, but Loras had other things to mull over as the life of the building pulled him from the stupor he’d been put in whilst burying the dead. Renly seemed pleased enough in their surroundings, still unaffected by what they’d seen. Loras wondered how many men he’d had to bury over his lifetime—how many he _cared_ enough to bury… 

 Taking the shots and paying for it right away, Loras let Renly bump the glasses together as they dedicated the shots to the family. Knocking it back, he let the burn slid down his throat and into his empty stomach, embracing the bite it took out of him. Staring at the now empty glass, he felt Renly’s knee gently press against his own under the table, and smiled softly, attention still fixed on the glass.

 “You going to be alright?” Renly asked, leaning in a bit to speak to him without having to shout. Loras nodded and turned to look at Renly, soaking in his sight.

 “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just need to rest for a bit—I think I got a bit of heat stroke from the sun.”

 “Mm, we really need hats,” he said, reaching up to tug a curl as the patrons in the saloon ignored the two of them in the corner. “Mind if I go try and get myself into a game of poker?”

 Loras shook his head and patted Renly’s shoulder. “Don’t lose,” he said, winking as Renly rolled his eyes and slipped off the stool.

 “I never lose,” he drawled out, smacking Loras’ back as he left to navigate his way through the tightly spaced tables and chairs. Watching him over his shoulder, Loras admired how quickly Renly could bounce back from anything. He was smiling as bright as ever, communicating with some of the men huddled around their chips as if he’d known them all his life. He drew people in… he certainly drew Loras in.

 Turning back around, he ran a hand over his face, pushing his curls away from his eyes and tucking them behind his ear. He sat for what seemed like hours, not communicating with anyone. Usually he’d be with Renly, even joining in a few games of whatever was being played (he had a fondness for Dice), and talking with everyone, laughing and sharing stories. But the image of the girl who looked like Margaery refused to leave, and so he sat in the shadows away from the revelery, cursing the day and what it had brought.

 It wasn’t until a man came out of one of the back rooms with a prostitute following behind, tears in her eyes as she accepted the money, a bruise forming across her eye, did Loras begin to pay attention to the happenings around him. Inspecting the man as he hefted his belt up, Loras couldn’t help but glower, the pleased, smug look on his pig-like face making his skin crawl as the girl composed herself behind him, keeping her distance.

 As soon as the pig-faced man was sitting with a few of his men, beady, water eyes peering at a partner across the table, Loras stood and approached the woman as she stayed in the shadows, trying to fix herself up. When she saw Loras she flashed him a toothy smile, although it did not reach her eyes.

 “Hey, fella… you looking for some fun?” she asked. He noticed she kept her head tilted to the side, hair falling over her black eye.

 Shaking his head, he glanced over his shoulder at the man at the table. “Him… did he do that to you?” he asked, pointing to her eye. She stiffened then, a flash of anger and terror in her eyes.

 “I don’t want no trouble, mister. He paid me and that’s all I care about,” she said, scratching the side of her neck.

 “I don’t want trouble, neither. I just…” he didn’t know what to say then, not really knowing why he approached her. Something about her wounds though made him take a second look, a sense of familiarity in how she was beaten and used. “I’m sorry for troubling you, Ma’am.”

 She seemed taken aback by the use of the word Ma’am, but she nodded afterward, a genuine smile on her lips as she shrugged. “You sure you don’t want to go into my room in the back?”

 Loras shook his head and smiled. “Nah, I’ve got someone to go home to,” he said, the truth of it all making him beam just a bit more. He left her to have her alone time, but instead of returning to the bar he approached the table at the back where the man sat. All of the men—there were seven of them—looked ill-kept, even for men of the road. Hair greasy and all of them missing teeth, they had a violent air around them, as if they were just waiting for an excuse to cause a brawl in the saloon. Sitting a short distance away by the window, Loras leaned back in his chair and watched them, head ducked down as they conversed about trivial things.

 He had no idea why he was so interested in them, but the man with the pig like face kept Loras’ attention, something about him making his blood boil and his eyes spark like flint. But just as Loras was about to give up, his suspicions unconfirmed, the pig-faced man began to talk about something very, very interesting.

 “You should have seen how one of these went through the head of a horse,” he said, and Loras could see him holding up the bullet, shining under the candlelight above their heads. 

 “Why, you killed a horse with that type of bullet?” one of the men asked, grinning.

 “Yeah, I did. See, me and Elmar and Luton were going down this stretch of road when we came across this family. And, well, we haven’t seen action in so long, we got a bit _excited_ and decided to test these fuckers out on the horses' heads. They work well on a young girls skull, too, after yah fuck ‘em.” The laughter around the table made Loras’ skin crawl, and the urge to slam the handle of his gun in the back of the man’s skull tickled his hand.

 But he refrained, and instead stood and approaching the table. He could feel Renly’s eyes on him from across the roo, but ignored the curious stare and headed right to the table, an easy smile on his face. “You’re the one who killed that family out on the road?” he asked, drawing all the men’s attention to him. The pig-faced man with the beady eyes glared at him.

 “Yeah, I did,” he began, leaning back in his chair. “Why are you so interested?”

 Loras shrugged, smile still on his lips. “I saw your handy work out there. It was pretty impressive.”

 The men all nodded, but a few were still weary. But the pig-faced man seemed pleased. He was a gloater, and Loras hated gloaters.

 “Can I see that bullet?” he continued.

 “Sure…” The bullet was rolled across the table and Loras plucked it off of the marred wood, taking a look at it, pretending to be interested in it. Renly’s eyes were still on him, Loras constantly aware of his presence wherever they happened to be. Like a gentle hum that Loras would feed off of, increasing in pressure the tenser Renly was. Right now Loras felt like he was being hit by a wall of it—but he kept going.

 “This is pretty nice,” he said, rolling it back. Again, the pig-faced man seemed pleased—as if he’d made the bullets himself. “But you know… I’d like to see how it fares on a fellow gunslinger…” he trailed off at the end, letting the words hang in the air as he shifted, the gun on his side flashing. The beady, watery eyes looked down at the weapon before flashing back up to lock with Loras’ eyes “How about a duel?”

 One of the men laughed, but the others kept their gazes on the man who had been challenged. He shifted with all of the eyes on him, and sucked something out between his teeth, hefting his belt up. “I don’ know—I don’t duel little boys.”

 The man was scared and he had already hesitated, a good sign for Loras. He kept pushing, the insult rolling off his back. “I’m pretty sure you know I’m not just a little boy. You’ve seen my face on those posters—hair like this isn’t hidden easily.”

 Recognition dawned on all of their faces then, and Loras realized much of the saloon had gone silent as they watched the scene play out before them, eagerness in a few gazes as they thought about the possibility of seeing some bloodshed by the end of the night. Even the piano had stopped playing, and Loras’ outlaw name being muttered by one of the men carried through the room.

 “You’re the Rose.”

 Loras smirked. “That I am.”

 “I ain’t heard of you doin’ any duels,” the pig-faced man said, wary.

 “I don’t usually do duels,” he replied. It was true—Loras only pulled his gun during heists, and on tin cans and cacti flowers. He never did it for sport. But Loras was fine with taking this man out, the possibility of losing to him not even factoring in. He’d win this—he knew it. “But I’ll make an acceptation for you. I’d really like to see you try and stick one of your prized bullets in _my_ head, seeing as how you so deftly put them in innocent women’s temples earlier today.”

 The tension in the room rose, if that was at all possible. But Loras stayed his ground, even when the men around them made move toward their revolvers, hands pushing back jackets and vests to reveal the glitter of metal. Loras knew the man had to take the challenge, else he’d be disgraced.

  And he did. Nodding his head, the man stood and jerked his head to the outside. “Ladies first.”

 Loras wanted to shoot the man right then and there, but staved the fury for a time and stepped out, men following behind him, including Renly. He caught Renly’s eye as he left—irritation and fright in his gaze. Loras didn’t know if he wanted to kiss him or hit him as he stepped out into the eerie moonlight street, the glow from the inside of the saloon shifting as the shadows of men and a few women moved in front of the windows and doors.

 Loras had witnessed duels before—one or two by men he’d heard about throughout his travels. They were famous for being a fast draw and an even faster pull of the trigger. Loras found the speed and accuracy at which they shot fascinating but also terrifying, and a part of him wanted to be that good. He’d have liked to have been known for more than just stealing and having a bounty on his head, and killing this man—this abomination if there ever was one—would be a good way to start. Loras never planned on killing for sport, but if he could cull out the nasty men with a bit of flash…

 Well, he wasn’t going to say he’d deny the fame that came with it.

 The fear of losing and dying that very night didn’t even slip into Loras’ mind, all of his attention and his emotions focused on the defeat of the pig-faced man with the watery, soulless little eyes—of defeating a man who beat and tortured women and killed for fun, for glory and for gloating. Loras felt the death he’d give him would be too sweet and too sudden for the likes of him, but then again, Loras was above gruesome, cruel displays of power. He was the better man… and the better shot.

 Walking out into the middle of the long strip of road between the rickety old buildings, Loras stopped a fair distance from the man, surprised he hadn’t tried anything underhanded, such as just shooting him in the back. But there were too many people watching, and Loras knew both their reputations, and their lives, were on the line. And so the man stayed, twitchy and off center, more than enough alcohol in his system and a grand sense of self making him too relaxed and yet too high-strung all at the same time.

 Closing his eyes for a second, he took a deep breath, his hand hovering over his side revolver, the metal sitting heavy and comforting against his hip as he opened his eyes and stared at the man down the way. Everything was silent—no one making a sound or saying anything at all. Even the wind seemed to stop, as if it had lost its breath for a moment and couldn’t quiet remember how to blow. And Loras simply stared into the beady-black eyes, fingers staying overtop his revolver’s handle, ready and willing to pull and shoot.

_Hesitation will get you killed…_

 Loras didn’t know how he knew when to draw and when to pull the trigger—it was just instinctual. Something just _snapped_ , like old wood that had been drying out in the hot desert sun for too long—sharp and sudden and with a deafening thud that seemed to hit your heart and make you ache. Hand sliding down with grace, Loras deftly pulled his revolver out and took aim, firing in a split second, smoke blooming forth from the end, hiding the shot from his own view until it cleared just in time to see the man drop like a sack of stones.

 Twirling the gun, he pushed it back in its holster as men clapped while others rushed over to check on their fallen posse member. Loras couldn’t help but smile, and broke out into a full out grin when Renly was suddenly there, eyes wide and a hand pressed against his chest.

 “What was that about, Little Rose?” he asked. He reached out, as if to pull Loras into a tight embrace, but he hesitated at the last second and simply patted his shoulder. Loras could feel him trembling.

 “He was one of the men who did it,” he explained, nodding at the man in the ground. “That was the fucker who killed and raped that family. And now he’s is going to go and say hello to his maker. Hope he enjoys gloating over it in front of God.”

 “You could have died!” Renly said, but despite his tone there was pride in his eyes. Loras had won his first duel.

 Shaking his head, Loras rested his hand on top of Renly’s own and smirked at him. “You doubted my ability, Baratheon? You’ve gotta have more faith in your partner.”

 They were grinning like fools at each other as men walked around, a few going to pat Loras on the back and congratulate him. But the good mood only lasted so long before one of the companions of the dead man stood in the middle of the street and began yelling, his finger pointed at Loras.

 “You just done and killed one of our own, you fuckin’ bastard,” he roared, spit flying everywhere, his face red with rage. “Don’t think we’ll forget this. Your gang is in the scope of ours, and the Bolton gang don’t take too lightly to one of their own bein’ killed.”

 Loras was still smiling, a brow quirked as the threat was tossed at him. But he could feel Renly stiffen beside him, and was about to ask what was wrong before Renly was gently dragging him away and to their horses.

 “We have to go. Now,” he said, trying to act natural but failing as he squeezed down on Loras’ arm. Pulling away, Loras slowed and followed at a less rushed pace. To show any reaction to their threat was a foolish move, and although Renly looked to be in control, Loras knew better.

 “Why?” he asked, untethering Daisy, turning around and thanking another compliment. He loved hearing ‘The Rose’ on the tips of everyone’s tongue. He just wished Renly would let him bask in it.

 Renly didn’t say anything for a time, the two leaving the town, kicking into a trot as soon as they were out of view. Renly continued to be silent the entire ride toward an old, dead tree out in the middle of nowhere. Sliding off his horse, he pulled out his telescope and peered across the planes, making sure no one was following them before turning to Loras, finally paying him some attention.

 “We did not want to make enemies of the Bolton gang,” Renly said, worry evident in his eyes. “They’re nasty to strangers and even worse to their enemies. They play dirty and are vicious, vicious men.”

 Loras shrugged, not deterred. “And they’re shit shots. We’ve angered more men in the last year, and a lot of them have been nasty. I haven’t even heard of this Bolton gang.”

 Shaking his head, Renly paced back and forth, bottom lip sucked in. “I don’t think they’ll follow us—not right now. The one you killed must not have been too high up in the chain. Still, if we’d stayed in that town for the night we’d be killed in our sleep.”

 The way Renly was acting made Loras suddenly nervous, not liking to see him in any distress. Reaching out he took Renly’s hand in his own and tugged him close, stopping him from pacing. Cupping his cheek, he pet the soft skin and smiled, kissing him quickly. “There isn’t anything out there that can stop me from being with you. Not God, not death, and certainly not some gang. Don’t worry about them, Renly. You’ve had Tywin Lannister come at you with a shotgun—a man with more influence and power than some low life, border hoping gang like the Boltons. We’ll be fine.”

 As he spoke he began to believe the words coming out of his mouth, and Renly seemed to, too. Nodding, he kissed Loras again before wrapping his arms around him, pulling him in for a tight hug. “You shot beautifully,” he said instead, still tense, but relaxing as Loras rubbed his back.

 “Of course I did—you were watching. I knew I had to impress.”


	17. Love and Mutual Respect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own 'em
> 
> Warning: Graphic MalexMale sex
> 
> Authors Note: This is sort of a boring chapter, but it sets things up for the future.

Sitting in the dark and up against the rough bark of the dead tree, Loras stared out across the way, pretending to look for dangers he didn’t think would come.

He’d been far too energized after the duel to sleep and offered to take first watch, Renly paranoid enough that he wanted at least one of them awake to make sure no one followed them to kill them in their sleep. Indulging him, Loras volunteered and sat down beside him, watching the stars in the night sky more than anything. Twinkling away, the stars let him get lost in his own head as he mulled over their situation.

Every now and again Renly would shift in his sleep, and Loras would be momentarily distracted, attention fixated on his messy bangs and how they’d hang across his eyes, a few strands fluttering anytime he breathed out. Renly’s hair was getting longer, his bangs hanging in front of his face while the rest was pulled back in a messy ponytail or a braid. Loras found himself wanting to just run his fingers through the thick black locks all the time, but refrained in that moment and instead returned his attention to the stars, hoping they’d provide him with some answers.

 They didn’t provide him with any answers per say, but they cleared his mind enough that he was able to just think. They didn’t have enough men with them to steal anything substantial to get enough money to go up north—that was for certain. He and Renly could probably take a few people by themselves, but that was about it. No, they needed the gang with them. For a second Loras cursed Renly’s resolute stance against traveling with other people, his dislike of getting attached to anyone a hindrance right now. If they had a proper posse with them, stealing from a few banks and shops would be easy enough, but with just the two of them it would be almost asking for a bullet through the head.

 Still, it wasn’t as if they didn’t have connections. They weren’t without friends who could help, and they were close to Mexico, the apparent location the rest of the gang had run off to…

 “Renly,” Loras hissed in the dark, shoving his boot out to kick him gently on the side. “Renly… Renly, wake up.”

 Groaning, Renly shifted, face scrunching up as he yawned loudly. “What?” he asked, eyes still closed.

 “Mexico. We need to go to Mexico.”

 Renly hummed, and was then silent. Rolling his eyes, Loras kicked him again, this time harder.

 “W-What?” Renly mumbled, eyes opening this time to glare at Loras. “Stop kicking me.”

 “We need to go to Mexico.”

 “I thought you wanted to go north,” he said, yawning again. His eyes were open though, and he was looking up at Loras with a certain amount of clarity.

 “I do, but we can’t get there now. If we go to Mexico and meet with Snow and the rest, maybe we can convince them to help us out—rob from a few places and get ourselves enough to go north.”

 “You do know Mexico is a big area—you can’t just walk past the boarder and expect to find them all standing there waiting for us.”

 Loras blushed, having not thought about that. But he wouldn’t give Renly the satisfaction of being right and pressed forward. “You must know where and why they went to Mexico.”

 Renly was silent, eyes closing again as he rolled on to his stomach, arms curled in close to his chest and cheek pressed against the rolled up cloth used as a pillow. “They probably went to Littlefingers.”

 “What’s Littlefingers?” Loras thought the name sounded suspiciously like it was referring to a penis. But Renly didn’t say anything, and Loras kicked him again. “What’s Littlefingers?”

 Sighing, Renly slowly sat up, his boot getting caught on the cot as he did so. Flopping down on to the ground, he ran a hand through his hair and with bleary eyes explained. “Littlefinger is the owner of a brothel down in Mexico. It’s a nice place—caters to all varieties of sexual appetites and bizarre fetishes. A lot of men like to visit the place, and knowing the amount of money Greyjoy left with, I’d say we can almost guarantee to find him there for the next week.”

 Nodding, Loras linked his fingers together and watched as Renly scratched under his jaw. “Have you been there?”

 “Of course.” Loras was silent after that, and Renly paused his neck scratching to look at Loras. Loras simply avoided his gaze, instead staring at a stone near some bushes.

Of course Renly’d been to a whore house and enjoyed it—it wasn’t as if Loras had any claim over him and it wasn’t as if Renly had waited years and years to be with Loras and only Loras. Still, he couldn’t get rid of the slight ache in his stomach as he thought about Renly having fun with someone else. Even if he had paid for them.

 “I never bought anyone, Loras.” Renly’s voice broke through the awkward silence, and Loras slowly looked over at him through messy curls. Renly continued to explain, a bit of uncertainty in his voice and in his eyes, “I’ve actually never slept with a woman before. I guess I never found them very appealing in a sexual sense. But I also never bought boys or other men, because I… well, you promise you won’t colour me in a bad light if I tell you this?”

 “I promise,” Loras said, a bit breathy as he waited on pins and needles for Renly to open up to him again. Even if he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what he said.

 “You remember how I said I ran off from my place up north when I was twelve? Well… you see… I had to do a lot to survive…” Scratching the back of his head, Renly looked almost sheepish as he tried to piece together his thoughts. It was strange to see Renly so lost for words. “I… when I had been on the trails for a few months and stealing food and whatever else I could get was becoming harder, I was… I decided to see if I could get money using other means. Those means just seemed to manifest themselves into selling my body.”

 Loras had anticipated it—as the story built he’d known that was how it was going to end. It made sense to Loras, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Renly deserved better—he was just a boy back then, an innocent boy who shouldn’t have had to resort to such methods just to keep going. Swallowing the anger, he shook his head, lips pursed. “That ain’t right… those men shouldn’t have touched you.”

 Renly shrugged. “I asked them to. So long as I was paid, I thought nothing of it. It was a harsh introduction to reality, though, being taken from behind up against a saloon in the middle of the night.”

 Loras cringed, not wanting to think about it. But Renly must have taken his silence as a slight against him, because he began to speak again, voice a little frantic, like when Loras threatened to leave a few weeks ago.  “I don’t do it anymore, though. A-And I mean, it’s not so bad, is it? I never kissed them—I never let them kiss me or anything. I just let them use my body for other means and—“

 “Renly.” Renly stopped talking, eyes wide and mouth parted. He stared at Loras, not really seeing him, too nervous to read Loras’ emotion as protectiveness toward him and not anger—never anger. “I don’t blame you or think badly of you,” he began once he knew he had Renly’s attention. Reaching out he took his hand in his own, calloused fingers wrapping around sun-kissed skin. “I don’t like the men that did that to you, but I don’t place their horrid actions upon you. You were just doing what you had to do, and I can’t fault you for that. It’s just…”

 He trailed off, not sure how to word his own worries now that Renly had finally calmed down, their fingers tangled together. “What is it?” Renly asked, gently tugging Loras arm.

 Sighing, Loras stared down at the ground once more, working his jaw back and forth, a sense of guilt curling in his gut like a rattlesnake. “You don’t… you don’t think I’m like… one of those men, do you? Because I wanted to have sex with you… I mean, you didn’t think when you touched me that you had to because I saved you or something… did you? You wanted to touch me, right?”

 There was silence for a second. It was only a second but it was enough to make the snake inside his stomach slither up to his gullet, making it hard to breathe and even think. He was about to stand and leave, unable to think of the possibility that Renly had only said he’d loved him because he felt obligated to.

 But then Renly was laughing.

 It was soft and lazy, but filled with amusement and a hint of love. It reminded Loras of a spring shower back on the ranch, when he’d sit on the porch with his family, all of them talking and laughing, sharing in the good mood together. It was comforting, and he pulled his stare away from the ground to watch Renly as he chuckled, shaking his head.

 “You’re far too considerate, Little Rose. Always thinking about me and my own welfare,” he said as soon as he’d stopped laughing. “I haven’t had to sell myself for years, and I never planned on doing it again. Like I said, Loras—there was no kissing involved with these men. I only kiss those I like, and as far as I can recall, we’ve shared an awful lot of kisses.” Scooting forward, he sat beside Loras and moved in for a quick, sweet kiss, one that pushed back the guilt and the self-loathing that had lay claim to Loras for a short moment. “Besides, there was no love involved in any of my encounters with those men. And this—what we’ve got—sweet Jesus I think if there was any more love and mutual respect involved we might just explode.”

 Loras laughed softly, their noses nuzzling as they smiled at each other. “We’d explode and shoot off to the moon.”

 “Mm, we could settle up there. Get ourselves a nice little ranch and heard space cows.”

 “Do you even know how to herd cows?”

 “No, but you could teach me. I’m a quick learner. Not as quick as you, but I’m close.”

 Smiling, Loras nodded and moved in for another kiss, this one slower but just as sweet. “I love you,” he mumbled, the first time he’d said it out loud. It sounded good, though, and felt even better rolling off of his tongue. Loras swore he tasted something like cinnamon or sweet candies in his mouth as he said it.

 “Love you, too. Now go lie down—you’ve woken me and now I can’t get back to sleep.”

 Agreeing, Loras pulled away after Renly kissed his forehead and ruffled his curls, curling up on the bed-roll. “So are we going to go to Mexico?” he asked, closing his eyes.

 “Sure, we’ll go to Mexico… do you speak any Spanish?”

 “No, not a lot… I know how to say thank you and fuck off.”

 Laughing, Renly clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Well you’re going to have to know Spanish before we go to the moon. It’s the only language they know up there.”

XX

“W-We should have left hours ago.”

 “We’re in no rush.”

 Bracing his hands on the large boulder, Loras ducked his head and pressed his lips against Renly’s neck, tasting the salt on his skin as his tongue flicked out. Renly let out a soft moan, and Loras felt hot, broad palms slid down his back before slipping down to gasp and knead his ass. Bucking forward, Loras sought more friction between the two, their cocks rubbing together.

 Loras could hear the sound of their belt buckles knock together as they hung loose down at their thighs, and listened to the slow rhythm of them hitting as they humped against each other. This was something new and exciting for them. They’d jerked each other a few times since they’d first started exploring with one another, but never had they rubbed together like this.

 It took longer to get hard, but the slow build was worth it as they rutted against the boulder, both lost in the sensation. Renly had suggested it when Loras had woken, talking about how he was so god damn horny and needed Loras. The forwardness of Renly’s tone was also something new, and it made Loras’ cock twitch in his pants even as he continued to sit, half awake and still unaware of his surroundings.

 Loras couldn’t say he was too terribly displeased with the idea. Since Renly had practically pulled Loras into his own sexual awakening with his kisses and longing stares, Loras had sex on his mind almost all the time. He wanted to be with Renly in every single way; he wanted to kiss him in every place; he wanted to fuck and be fucked in every position that was possible for the two of them. Even if he was mostly ignorant about sexual positions in the first place.

 He wanted it _all_.

 “How are you doing?” Renly asked, breath hitching as Loras lifted his head to look at him. Hair a wild mess and eyes bright and intense, Renly’s lips were kiss bruised and swollen, and Loras couldn’t resist going in for another kiss as they ground together, Renly stilling them to enjoy the press of their lips and the rub of their tongues.

 “I-I’m fantastic,” Loras panted out when they broke apart, hips bucking forward, his cock sliding against Renly’s sharp hipbone.

 “Good.” Renly’s finger suddenly dipped lower, and Loras only had a second to comprehend what was going on before Renly’s finger was gently massaging his hole.

 For a second Loras did not know what to do, embarrassed by the sudden spike in arousal at having his anus massaged. Renly seemed to realize this and his hand moved away to caress his lower back instead. “What were you doing?” Loras asked, trying to find his rhythm again, not wanting to show his hesitation. He just thought about having sex in every possible way, and here he was, shying away at something new.

 “I was massaging your hole,” Renly mumbled, kissing the side of Loras’ head as he brought a hand between them and started to jerk Loras, bringing him close to the edge. His other hand gently cupped his balls, Loras feeling them bounce against the palm of his hand. “Did it feel good?” he asked, whispering it against Loras’ ear.

 Blushing, he rested his forehead against Renly’s shoulder, unable to form an answer as pleasure spiked through him. A few more swiped and Loras was done after rutting against Renly for what seemed like hours. Hips thrusting forward at an erratic pace, he moaned out Renly’s name, the ghost of his finger over his hole making his pleasures a little more intense.

 It wasn’t until he was completely done did he lift his head and begin to answer, hand sliding down to massage Renly’s hip as he stroked his prick with the other one. “It felt… interesting… do you ever stick your fingers up there?” It sounded crude to ask, but then again, he was busy jerking Renly’s prick. And he wanted to know. If just touching his hole could make him a little bit harder, maybe there was something to telling a man to get fucked up the ass.

 “Mm, yeah, you can,” Renly said, head pressed back against the boulder, a tongue darting out to wet his lips. “T-There is a spot inside you… feels real good when you stroke it.”

 “Do you like being touched there?” Loras asked. He immediately regretted it, the realization that men paid to touch him there at the forefront of his mind as he quickly replayed their conversation from two nights ago. But Renly didn’t seem fazed by it, pushing his erection through Loras’ fingers, the tip of his cock touching just above Loras’ groin.

 “Love it,” he said, getting close as he stiffened. “Y-You’d love it, too. Positive of it.”

 “Next time, then?” he said, and feeling a little daring, added at the end. “Next time you can fuck me with your trigger finger.”

 That sent Renly over, gasping Loras’ name out as he let out a breathy laugh, eyes staring up at the sky before squeezing shut as he rode out the pleasure. Once he was done he rolled his head to the side, grinning at Loras as Loras pulled his pants back up. “You’re a dirty little fellow.”

 Snorting, Loras did his buckle up and watched as Renly continued to lounge against the stone, half naked. “You’re the one touching my asshole.”

 “You’re not as innocent as you like to appear,” Renly said, scratching his stomach. “You and your pretty little curls and your charming little smile that makes the ladies in the town go weak in the knees. What would they say if they knew how much you enjoy the thought of me fucking you with my trigger finger?”

 “I don’t know… they’d probably be shocked and appalled,” he said, grasping Renly’s hips, taking the chance to touch his smooth, bare skin with ease. “But remember—you’re the one defiling me and teaching me all these things.”

 Renly grinned and went in for a kiss—slow and passionate. Fingers tangling in thick curls, Loras continued to pet Renly’s hips. Pulling away, Renly finally got to fixing himself up, Loras a little sad to see him covered up again. He longed for the day when they’d both get naked together to touch all parts. So far the most they’d even undressed was pushing their pants down. Speaking of clothing, however…

 Bending down, Loras picked his new hat up off the ground and dusted it off, shoving it on his head as he approached the tethered horses. Renly had insisted they buy new hats once they’d decided to head to Mexico. He was embarrassed enough as it was, wandering along as an outlaw with no hat in an area that only knew his name by reputation. But he flat out refused to be seen down with his gang with no hat.

 There was a sort of… bond a cowboy had with his hat. You didn’t mess with a man and his hat, just like you did not mess with a man and his horse. There was a code, one all men of the west had grown up with. The hat was an extension of the man himself, and was also a useful and necessary tool to have if you planned on spending long hours in the sun.

 It had taken Renly a long time to pick out his hat, spending over an hour in the tailors, scaring the clerk as he tried to suggest things Renly thought looked ‘god awful’ or ‘worse than a dead armadillo that’s been rotting in the sun for days’. Loras had chosen his a little faster, going with a dark brown one that had a black belt around the side. He had already shoved a pressed prairie rose along the side, making it his own and a little more comfortable to wear. It didn’t feel exactly like his old one did, but he’d worn the same hat since he was sixteen, and he knew it’d take some time to adjust to the new brim and the tightness of it.

 But Renly troubled over his own Stetson, refusing to purchase anything that did not feel exactly like his old one.

He eventually settled on a black one, the belt around it also black with a small silver clasp on the side. He wasn’t too happy with the hat after he’d bought it and fiddled around with it for some time, complaining on and off about how it didn’t fit like his old one did. Loras had been about to ask him if he wanted to go all the way back to the spot he’d almost died at just to find the damn thing, when Renly suddenly became fine with it after he’d caught Loras’ slightly murderous glare.

 He was still fiddling with it, though, and Loras watched as he pushed it down on his forehead before flicking the brim back up, settling on Ricochet as they pulled away and headed down to the path. They were only a few hours from the border and a day away from Littlefinger’s brothel, but they’d stopped more than necessary, buying hats or fucking against a tree slowing them down enough. Loras couldn’t complain, though, the shade from his hat and the tingling sensation from just getting a good release enough to make him smile and whistle a tune.

 They finally arrived in Mexico when the sun had set. The land was covered in pink and red pastels as the sun set, the rocks around them already containing more of an ochre tone than those in America. Or maybe it was just Loras over-romanticising the landscape. It was easy to do so, tales of the Mexican countryside reaching Loras as a small child even, telling him of the adventures to be had in the land basked in sun. Renly had given Loras a speech about how things were different down here—civil war and violence even more a threat than in America. But Loras paid those warnings little mind as he rode Daisy up to the ridge of a small canyon that broke through the land, shrubs coating the bottom, hiding the wild creatures like desert wolves and vipers from view.

 “Are you having another moment?” Renly asked as he sat beside Loras on the ridge, a smoke dangling from his lips.

 “Another moment?” he asked, peering down at a bush that rustled. “What do you mean?”

 “You do that thing where you just… ride along with that moment. You just… stare out and enjoy it—I can see it in your eyes; the excitement and the wonder, the enjoyment and the thrill of the adventure. You did when you first saw your desert back when we met, and sometimes I see it in your eyes when we’re together…”

 Smiling, Loras shrugged. “Maybe I am soaking in the moment,” he said. “Just taking in everything God’s blessed me with. Beautiful sights to see and places to visit… and even more beautiful in which to ride that good feeling with.”

 It was days like this that made Loras figure that maybe all the pain and death he’d seen really was all worth it.


	18. Mexican Brothels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own 'em
> 
> Warnings: None
> 
> Authors Note: Another filler chapter, but with little clues as to what will happen in the future. I promise things will pick up steam the next couple of chapters.

 

 Loras didn’t know what he expected when Renly mentioned a brothel down near the border, but he certainly did not expect what he saw coming up that ridge.

 

 The size of a hotel, the brothel was light up brightly, warm reds and yellow lights coming from within and spilling out onto the cobblestone street. The windows were large and some of them opened on to little balconies, a few women draped out of them, cooing as the men down below. The building had a courtyard within, more excitement taking place under the stars in the middle of the building. Spanish and English were both being spoken and mixing together, a few of the women were slipping between the two with ease depending on who they were speaking with. Everything had an air of culture and sophistication, a surprise to Loras. Not only because it was a brothel, but because it was in the middle of a small town that seemed to get most of its culture from the brothel itself.

 

 And the women were different. They looked more… healthy than most of the ladies he’d seen hanging out in saloons, their hair matted and their teeth rotting, a few young enough that Loras suspected they were still children. But these women were in charge of themselves, and while Loras was not naïve enough to believe that they were completely happy, at least they did not look as if they were falling apart at the seams.

 

 “Littlefinger is able to keep this place as high quality as it is due to the patrons he brings in,” Renly explained as they drew closer. They’d ridden through the night, both eager to lie down on a bed after spending over two weeks on the ground. Loras figured it was around three in the morning and yet people were still milling about. “Lawmen and army men from both sides of the border, as well as wealthy cattle ranchers and men selling coal and living off the people they exploit. He makes enough money and has enough connections to keep the place running smoothly. You won’t find your classic bar-fights and moth eaten mattresses.”

 

 “Have you been here often?” Loras asked, curious about the inside. “Is it as nice inside as it looks outside?” As they drew closer he could see there were intricate paintings of wildlife scenes down across the side of the white stucco, adding to the brightness of the place.

 

 “It’s very nice inside. Rich, red curtains all over the place and paintings on the walls, and it’s all clean, too. Littlefinger hires some older women in the village to do the washing during the day. Most of the girls have their own rooms, but he’s got a few that he rents out like a hotel if you pay enough and know him well enough.”

 

 “Are we going to be doing that?” he asked. He couldn’t imagine renting a room with a girl only to ask if he could just sleep.

 

 Nodding, Renly plucked a peppermint leaf out of his tin and stuffed it in his mouth, chewing on it. “Yup—we’re getting a room. Together.”

 

 Loras shifted then, wondering what two men renting a one bed room in a brothel would look like to most folk. “Is that going to be... alright?”

 

 “It’s a whore house, Loras. I doubt anyone is going to care given everything else going on in there. Besides, Littlefinger knows my, uh… preferences. He doesn’t care, so long as I pay.”

 

 Whenever Renly spoke about Littlefinger he sounded annoyed just saying his name, as if he was an inconvenience to even think about. But Loras supposed he must have been an annoying individual if Renly didn’t like him, considering Renly seemed to like most everyone. As soon as they arrived they slipped off their horses and a man approached them, tipping his hat to Renly. Renly simply smiled and made move to pass their horses off, Loras a little antsy about giving Daisy away to a stranger.

 

 “I’ll walk her,” Loras said, keeping hold of her reins. Renly quirked a brow but said nothing, used to Loras’ fondness for his horse and the pampering he liked to do before setting her up for the night. Renly didn’t rightly understand what it was like to raise a horse yourself, from their days as a foal up until the last moments of their life. Daisy was Loras’ only constant and he wanted to give her what she deserved.

 

 Following the man to the barn, nothing was said, the farm hand only speaking Spanish. Loras didn’t feel much like thanking him or telling him to fuck off. Setting Daisy up, he brushed her off and fed her some treats, then headed back to the brothel, taking his time to enjoy the murmur of conversation from a distance as the Mexican sky stayed dark and clear.

 

 He was surprised to see Renly was waiting for him at the door, and even more surprised to see him speaking to a tall, dark skinned woman, the two of them smiling and conversing in a familiar way. Sliding up next to Renly, he smiled at the woman, her piercing almond eyes drawing him in. She sized him up immediately, and Loras let her, knowing this was part of her job.

 

 “Hello, Miss,” he said, tipping his hat to her. The corner of her lips twitched, and she nodded back.

 

 “Hello—Renly was just telling me about you, Loras.” Her voice was deep and rich, confidence in every syllable. “I am Chataya. I help to run this establishment, and I know your traveling partner well.” She winked, and had Loras not known better, he’d have suspected they enjoyed each other’s company. But as it stood, Loras knew they were just good friends. Like Renly seemed to be with everyone.

 

 “Chataya was just telling me that Littlefinger has turned in for the night so she’ll take us to our room,” Renly said, patting Loras’ arm. Loras was relieved to hear that, desperate to lie down after traveling all day and most of the night. Following Chataya into the brothel, they immediately stepped into the open courtyard, a fountain in the middle adding to the soothing, relaxed atmosphere. Trees were planted inside, ones Loras had never seen before, the trunks long and covered in layers of bark while the tops had spiny leaves that flared out like a lady’s fan. Little tables had been set up, along with a few couches for men and women to lounge on. Loras suspected the area would be busy during the day and early evening, but as it stood there were only a few men sitting around, an empty bottle of tequila resting between them as they slumped in their chairs.

 

 Walking through the courtyard, they came to tiled steps that lead up to the second floor, the wood beneath their feet making very little sound as they wandered down a long, narrow hallway, red curtains draped against the walls, muffling the sounds around them further. Most of the doors were closed, the women with their clients or sleeping, but a few were still slightly open, and Loras peeked into one as they walked past, noticing the extravagance of it. Chataya and Renly were speaking as they walked, but Loras paid their conversation little mind, too curious about his new surroundings. Renly said one day Loras’ curiosity would get him killed, but so far it had only aided him.

 

 He noticed there was a smell in the building, too. Like heavy, rich perfume that sat in the smoke around them. Wondering what it was and unable to stop himself from asking, he caught up to the two of them and asked.

 

 “It’s incense,” Chataya said, smiling whimsically at Loras. “From the orient. Very expensive, but well received here. It masks the smell of drunks and semen. Have you never been into a proper brothel before? You seem very curious.”

 

 Immediately Loras bristled, hated being called out on his ignorance. “No, I just… haven’t smelled incense before.” It was a half a truth. He had never smelled it before, but he’d also never been in a proper brothel, avoiding them almost as much as he avoided the part of Texas he’d grown up in. Renly smirked as Loras lifted his chin slightly, trying to get some added height on Chataya after he realized that she was taller than him. Loras rarely felt threatened, knowing he was better than most, but Chataya was someone he’d never encountered before…

 

 He didn’t have to be worried about being made to be a fool much longer, though, the three of them stopping outside a door near the end of the hallway. Knocking twice, Chataya pressed her ear against the door before nodding in satisfaction. “Sometimes you must check if someone is inside who shouldn’t be,” she said, opening the door for them. “There are some surprises waiting for those who don’t know in a brothel.”

 

 Stepping in after Renly, Loras was immediately taken back to the days when he lived on the ranch, decadence and riches all around him. The walls inside were of the same white stucco outside, but they too had been painted with wild animal scenes, earthy tones and dark blues used to paint fowl and deer, coyotes and snakes. Deep red curtains lined the two windows against one wall, both of them large to let the sun in, and against the same wall rested a plush couch with a table and two seats opposite it used for sitting and socializing. A wardrobe rested on the other side of the room, empty but readily available to store clothes or, most likely, guns. And in the middle of the room against the wall right across from them was the bed. Made of polished bronze, the headboard glittered under the flames that danced in the gas lights against the walls, while the silk blankets rested across, fluffy white pillows at the head.

 

 It reminded Loras much of his parent’s bedroom, and for a second he found it odd to be standing in it with a man and a prostitute. But the feeling passed the more he looked at it, the greens and the lace his mother loved absent from the bold expressions in the room.

 

 “If you need anything, just find one of the men or women wearing the white aprons,” Chataya said, closing the door, sending Renly a knowing look through the crack in the door.

 

 “God, would you look at this—civilization!” Renly exclaimed, taking off his ammo belts and tossing it on the couch. Spreading his arms out, he turned around to look at Loras, grinning. “What do you think?”

 

 “It’s real nice,” Loras said, taking off his gloves and stuffing them in his back pocket. “Sure we can afford this?”

 

 Renly shrugged. “Littlefinger gives me a deal. I don’t like the man, but I appreciate his business code. I stop men from brawling in the bar area now and again just by showing up, and he gives me a few deals. It’s a win for both. I get a room and save some money, and he doesn’t lose any clients or furniture in the ensuing fights that can happen.”

 

 “Is your presence really that intimidating?” Loras teased, putting his rifle in the wardrobe, followed by his ammo belts. He could hear Renly undressing behind him, laughing as he did so.

 

 “I can be very intimidating,” Renly said, just as Loras turned around to see him wrestle with his shirt, trying to get it up and over his head. Finally he freed himself, hair standing up all over the place as he tossed it off to the side.

 

 “You could have just undone the buttons,” Loras said, doing just that with his shirt after he’d hung his hat up. Shrugging off his shirt, he placed it in the wardrobe as well, folding it best he could. For some reason, being back in such a luxurious place made him remember all the courtesy classes he’d taken as a young man, and he couldn’t help but clean up after himself as he got ready for bed.

 

 “That would be too easy,” Renly said, kicking his boots off before lying down on the bed, mattress springs creaking as he bounced on it. Head flopping on to the pillows, Renly lay there, one hand over his eyes while the other scratched his stomach. “I’m dog tired…”

 

 “Me, too,” Loras said, taking off his belt and adding it to the pile before kicking his boots off. Wandering around the room, he turned the gas lights off one by one, until the only light came from the moon outside. Approaching the bed, Loras used his hands to navigate, and ended up crawling on top of Renly to get to the other side of the bed. Flopping down beside him, he let out a satisfied groan, the silks and the plushness of the mattress far too much for him to handle. It felt amazing. “Remind me again why I follow you all around America when I could just stay in places like this?”

 

 “Because you love me… and you don’t trust me enough not to get killed,” Renly drawled out, rolling on to his side to curl up against Loras. Renly’s skin was warm and smooth, and Loras wrapped his arms around him, hugging him close as they lay on top of the blankets. “Besides, you wouldn’t appreciate this sort of decadence like you do now if you see it all the time.”

 

 “I don’t know about that. I appreciate your unique beauty and I see it every day.”

 

 Renly was silent for a moment, a happy hum cut short as he processed the word ‘unique’. “Was that a compliment?”

 

 “I don’t know—are you special?”

 

 “I don’t know, depends on your definition of special.”

 

 “You’re just special and unique, Renly. Very special.”

 

 Silence, before, “Please tell me if that was a compliment or not.” He was almost whining.

 

 “Your unique beauty was a compliment…” Loras mumbled, falling asleep as he said it. Just as Renly snuggled back close, though, Loras finished his sentence. “And my definition of special was indeed in reference to your intelligence.”

 

XX

 

  Loras woke in an empty bed.

 

 Rolling over, he flopped on to Renly’s side, the sheets cool and smelling faintly of perfume and the cream they used for shaving. They’d forgotten to close the curtains at night but they’d been closed at some point in time, a sliver of light breaking through a crack in the drapes. Renly probably closed them for him.

 

 Stuffing his face in the pillows, Loras tried to get up but found he was far too comfortable, body so relaxed after weeks of tension and stress. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been about everything until now, everything around him making Loras feel safe. He was always on guard when they were wandering from town to town, the threat of danger high. He felt as if his hand was constantly hovering over his gun, attention half on the men before him, the rest on Renly and what he was doing and if he was safe.

 

 But here, Loras didn’t feel as if he had to protect Renly, and so he just lay, wishing he’d taken his pants off before going to sleep. The silk blankets felt nice against his bare chest, and he curled up against them, eyes closing again as sleep called to him.

 

 He didn’t fall asleep, though, rather he dozed for another hour, limbs heavy and mind satisfied. It wasn’t until his stomach growled did he finally get up, hair a tangled mess and eyes puffy from sleep as he dressed slowly. Walking down to the main courtyard, Loras listened to the hum of conversation and the trickle of the fountain, footsteps loud on the tiled stairwell. Approaching a small table that was free, he sat own and kicked his feet out, hands hooked under his belt as he watched the easy pace of the morning patrons. Loras had seen the brothel at its slowest moment, and wondered what it was like during the early night hours—if things were loud and if there was music to enjoy to go along with the alcohol and women.

 

 In the end Loras didn’t care, more caught up on the lack of food in his stomach and the notion that soon he’d be on that bed again. Hopefully naked and with Renly. Bored with watching the world go by, he stood and left the brothel, smiling at the women as he wandered past, a few giggling. Loras liked to make women laugh and smile, despite never wishing more in return for his efforts. When he was younger he’d play with the feelings of the girls he’d gone to school with, flirting and smiling, pretending to go in for a kiss before running off, leaving them startled and upset.

 

 Loras suspected he liked being able to control the girls in a way—that his charms were enough to make them like him and want to be near him. And he was in complete control of it all, giving it as easily as he took it away.

 

 He’d stopped doing it when he told Margaery about it one day. She’d slapped him, cheeks red and eyes bright with anger. She told him that a girl’s feelings weren’t to be toyed with. It was the only time she’d hit Loras, and it was the only time it was needed. Loras learned his lesson, which was partly why he ran from his marriage to Sansa.

 

 A girl’s feelings were not to be toyed with.

 

 Still, Loras liked to make a girl smile, even if all they ever got from him was a smile and a bit of courtesy.

 

 Stepping out into the town, Loras wandered, soaking in the sights of a Mexican village. Where he’d lived, Mexico was the land of the barbaric, their laws and their culture uncivilized. The men who worked on their ranch and who were Mexican were always treated a bit differently—never with as much respect as those men who came from other parts of America, with their American accents and American way of doing things. But Loras had come to realize that America was just as barbaric as the rest of the world—perhaps more so. Walking through the town he simply enjoyed his new surroundings, even if he didn’t quite understand it all.

 

 But as he was turning a corner he saw a man walk out of a small inn, coins jingling in his hands, a grin on his pointed face. He held himself high and proud, and his clothing was finely tailored and of the highest quality. He wore his beard with a point at the end and a twirl in his moustache, further showing off his status and rank as a rich man in a poor nation.

 

 He must be Littlefinger.

 

 Loras briefly wondered if he should approach him, but his question was answered for him as Littlefinger sauntered up to him, a swagger in his step as he pocketed his money. “You must be the Rose I’ve been hearing so much about,” he called, approaching Loras with a smirk on his lips. As soon as he was close he extended his hand, Loras accepting it in a firm handshake. Loras could see why Renly was annoyed by him. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Petyr Baelish—but everyone has taken on calling me Littlefinger.”

 

  _I wonder why…_ “Hello, I guess you already know who I am. Mind telling me how?” he asked, wary of him.

 

 Littlefinger just smiled, one of those annoying ‘all knowing smiles’. “Your name has traveled fast, even down here in Mexico. I believe your latest endeavour, beating up Tywin Lannister of Lannister and Co. Banking, was your latest claim to fame. Although I suspect you’ve already managed to do some other noteworthy deeded in the last two weeks that haven’t yet reached us.”

 

 Loras gave him a tight smile. He liked it when people knew his name, the fame something he embraced, but the way Littlefinger was speaking and the look in his eyes made Loras feel distinctly annoyed. He was too smug, and Loras suspected he was only speaking of Loras’ fame in order to get on his good side. Still… it did feel good to be known. “I am… humbled you’ve heard of me.” A lie. “I have had the chance to stay at your brothel for the night—it’s a lovely place.”

 

 All of the courtesy he’d learned growing up was coming back to him as he spoke to Littlefinger—the need to hide his true feelings and intentions behind well-formed sentences and tight smiles. It amazed him how easily he slid back into it, but at the same time it also unnerved him. He didn’t like being back in his old clothes.

 

 “I am glad. Chataya told me you had arrived last night and told me of your curly hair—it is how I recognized you. And you arrived with my old friend, Renly Baratheon.  He’s a smart man to ride with and a good partner to have. Although I heard you two have developed a bond most would be jealous of…”

 

 “We’re good friends,” Loras replied, not even batting an eyelash. What was with this man’s obsession with him? “Speaking of Baratheon, have you seen him?” He wanted to stop talking to him as soon as possible, his little smirk making Loras’ jaw clench and fingers twitch.

 

 “Alas, I have not. Although I was speaking to a man who knows him in that inn over there. He was eating lunch and seems like he’ll be there all day. You should speak to him,” Littlefinger said, stepping out of the way for Loras, but staying close as Loras passed by, tilting his had to him in thanks. “I look forward to speaking to you later. Hopefully your good friend will join us.”

 

 “I hope for the same,” Loras replied over his shoulder _. I hope for the same else I’m going to kill Renly for leaving me alone with him again._ But Loras’ irritation was quickly gone as soon as he stepped into the inn, the coolness of the room a welcome reprieve from the heat outside. Taking off his hat, he smelled food cooking in the back, and looked around the lobby that served as an eating area to see a familiar round face in the corner. “Well if it isn’t Samwell Tarly,” Loras drawled out, approaching the table.

 

 Tarly’s bright smile was a welcoming sight in a land he’d never traveled to, and Loras found he was relaxing further despite being unable to find Renly.

 

 “Hello, Loras! I heard rumours you were here but I wasn’t sure. Please, sit down.”

 

 Taking the seat opposite him, Loras looked down at his plate and stole a bit of pita bread. “We arrived last night early in the morning,” he explained, picking off a bit and chewing on it. It was good. “Have you seen Renly?”

 

 “No, but Jon when off with him. We’ve been staying in this inn while Theon’s spent all his money down at the brothel,” Sam explained, making a face at the brothel comment.

 

 “Not interested?” Loras asked, only mildly curious.

 

 Tarly shrugged. “Nah, not really. I don’t see why you’d want to pay a woman for her company. I guess I’m just old fashioned. And Jon… Jon doesn’t much like the entire concept. I think it’s because he’s a bastard. He also seems to really not like Littlefinger, but he hasn’t told me why. Just said some old family prejudices or something.”

 

 Loras quirked a brow, trying to figure out how the Starks could possibly have any connection to a Mexican brothel owner, but decided not to question. He didn’t much care. “So where did Jon go off to?”

 

 “With Theon to go and meet some other men about a heist.”

 

 “A heist?”

 

 “Apparently we’re going to rob a train.”

 

 A bit of pita fell out of Loras’ mouth then.

 

 


	19. Something New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own them
> 
> Warning: Graphic MalexMale sex
> 
> Authors Note: One last sex scene for you guys before shit hits the fan.

 “We haven’t even said anything and you’re already glaring. Fuck, what does it take to please you?” Greyjoy slammed his glass down on the table as he stared at Loras across the way, eyes bright with irritation. Grinding his jaw back and forth, his nostrils flared as he shook his head side to side. “You are a real pain in the ass, Rose—a real fucking pain.”

 “Maybe I wouldn’t be just a pain if you fucking listened for once and didn’t go running along dragging other people into your idiotic attempts at making a name for yourself!”

 Greyjoy went to slam his cup down again when he realized he’d already done that, face going red as he raised it half way, hesitated, then put it back down in a half-hearted attempt to make a sound. “Y-you little—fine. Fine, don’t come on this heist. We don’t need you and you can just run off and go and—and go up North!”

 “Hey now…” It was Renly’s turn to interject. He always served as the mediator between the two of them, the rest of the gang hanging back or even having quiet conversations with each other as Loras and Greyjoy battled it out. “Loras is with me, and you need me. Without me, this is going to work. So you two play nice.”

 “I am not with you,” Loras shot back, making Renly drop his head down into his hands. “We are partners—you are not better than me and I am not better than you.”

 “Can we please get back on track?” Snow’s soft voice broke through the stiffness. Turning his attention to Snow, Loras watched as he rolled his head back and stared up at the ceiling, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “We’re robbing a train, Rose, with another gang that call themselves the Faceless Men.” Dropping his head back down, he gave him a blank stare. “You can either come with us or not. The Faceless Men just want a few choice items from one of the compartments at the front. We get the rest.”

 “And who are these Faceless Men?” Loras asked, hating how much he didn’t know, despite having lived out in the crazed world of the West for over a year.

 “We don’t know,” Renly said, brushing his hair out of his face as he finally lifted his head from his hands. “They’re sort of an enigma. They usually don’t cause much trouble—they’re… professionals. Of a sort.”

 “And we’re seriously going to rob a train in Mexico with a gang we know nothing about?” Loras asked. “We’re supposed to be laying low, Renly—not robbing trains and getting ourselves into even more trouble. Remember the last time we did something this stupid? You got shot and then almost killed by an irate banker with a vendetta.”

 Renly snorted and glared at Loras. “Yeah, well we wouldn’t have had the second part if you didn’t leave me out in the goddamn desert after I begged you not to leave!”

 “Don’t peg that on me,” Loras shot back, a blush blooming on his cheeks as the two of them argued in front of the gang about personal affairs. “You had built up a record with Tywin Lannister, and that day just so happened to be the day he snapped.”

 “The point remains, Loras—we’re always in trouble when we rob a bank or a train or whatever you may have. We always make enemies. At least this way we know we’re going to be doing this with another gang that is professional. And they know their explosives.”

 Loras clenched his jaw and took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Flashes of Renly falling and bleeding out on the floor of a bank came back to him as he sat there, fingers twitching on the table, leg bouncing up and down. He’d come so close to losing Renly in the span of a day, he didn’t want that to happen again; he couldn’t—no, he _wouldn’t_ —let his silent promise to keep Renly safe be broken. “You’re just doing this to get your names out there,” he mumbled. He was running out of excuses.

 “Oh for god sakes!” Greyjoy cried out, throwing his hands up in the air. He went to lean against the bar and ordered a shot of tequila from the inn owner as he stared out the window, shaking his head back and forth slowly, mumbling ‘hypocritical bastard’ under his breath.

 “Are you even listening to yourself, Loras?” Renly asked, brow furrowed and mouth hanging open. “You’re the one who dueled a Bolton member the other day!”

 Snow and Greyjoy both went tense then, their hard stares making Loras’ eye twitch.

 “You shot a Bolton member?” Snow asked.

 Loras ignored him. “I did that to avenge the family they slaughtered. They needed someone to take revenge for them, because God wasn’t going to.”

 Renly laughed then. It was bitter and without mirth. Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms over his chest and clucked his tongue. “No, Loras, you didn’t. You wanted your name out there, and you sure as hell got that wish, because now that gang is going to be after us for a long time.”

 “Don’t try and tell me why I did it!” Loras cried out. Loras wasn’t sure why he was angry and who he was angry with. Was he angry because Renly tried to tell him why he did something; angry because Renly was partially right and he didn’t want to admit it; or angry because everyone was treating him like some ignorant child? He didn’t rightly know what he was angry with, but he kept pushing, hating that he was being teamed up on but refusing to back down, even when he was being pressed into a corner. He would not be humbled. “I did it because they were innocent people who needed to be at peace. As long as that man walked on this earth, alive and well and prospering, I knew that family would never be able to rest, and _I_ wouldn’t be able to sleep.”

 “I don’t know what it is with you and trying to protect and avenge innocent people, Loras,” Renly said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What are you trying to do? Absolve yourself of any perceived sins you’ve managed to rack up since you started riding with me? Do you save people in compensation for all the people you’ve killed, or because of what we do together at night?”

 Loras couldn’t take it anymore. Standing abruptly, he kicked his chair to the side and stormed off, boots loud on the wooden floorboards. “Why don’t you tell the whole world you fuck me, huh?” he yelled out as he ripped open the door, letting the hot afternoon air inside. The owner of the inn was yelling at Loras in Spanish, either telling him to close the door or stop yelling or maybe not to pull his gun out, but Loras did not wait around for a reply from any of the men, least of all Renly, and stepped out, the door smacking against its frame as it swung shut behind him, creating a loud crack in the lazy Mexican street.

 It was unbearably hot under the afternoon sun, but Loras pushed it aside as he strode down the street toward the barns, wanting to just hug his horse. He needed to calm down and he needed to just breathe. He was embarrassed and frustrated and worried and so goddamn _angry_. He knew if he’d stayed in that room with all of them he’d have hit someone—probably Renly. For a brief second he’d even wanted to smash his chair over his head as hard as he could. But he reigned himself in, the thought of hurting Renly cooling the rage long enough that he could get up and leave—walk away before he did anything he regretted.

 He couldn’t believe Renly would just let that information out. It was as if he thought it was okay to talk about it so freely in front of people who didn’t and couldn’t possibly understand. Even Loras didn’t even fully understand it, his attraction to men and the complications that came with it. Society didn’t accept it—didn’t Renly know that?

 And then he just went and supported Greyjoy while pointing out all of Loras’ flaws and hypocrisies. It was completely _infuriating_. Entering the barn behind the brothel, he paid little mind to the stable boys sitting at the entrance under the shade and made a straight line toward Daisy’s small stall. Slipping in beside her, he ran his hand along her side as he came up to her head, hugging her neck as soon as he could. Tangling his fingers in her cream coloured mane, he pressed his cheek against her neck and simply stared at the wall ahead.

 Loras felt like he was a young boy again, standing in the barn on his parent’s ranch as he glowered over something they’d said or done. He was older, though, and storming off and yelling wasn’t what he was supposed to do. He was nineteen and a killer, not a little boy who was told he couldn’t go up to the creek and splash around because it was too dark out. But he still found comfort with his horse, and closed his eyes, trying to calm down. He didn’t know how long he stayed there, the heat not getting to him as he stood beside her, thinking over what he’d said, what Renly had said, and what he’d wanted to say. He couldn’t go back in time, though, so thoughts of what should have been said or how they should have stated was futile, and he abandoned such them and simply thought about nothing. He just cleared his mind and gripped his horse close.

 Eventually he went to brush Daisy out, making her golden coat shine as he worked away his frustrations on the bits of dust on her socks and the tangles in her tail. Feeling a bit bad, he gave Ricochet a rubdown too, his black and white coat shimmering, making him look almost beautiful. But his Roman nose and droopy bottom lip ruined any chances of being from prized breeding stock. Once he was done taking care of them he decided to head back to the brothel, the sun setting, cooling everything down enough so that people were once again walking around.

 He wasn’t sure what he was going to do once he saw Renly again. He was still angry with him, but knew his staunch resolve against robbing the train was completely contrary to why they’d come down to Mexico in the first place. They needed the money, and the entire affair sounded like it’d go down well enough if they all did what they were supposed to do. Still, working with a gang he’d never met and everyone else knew little about wasn’t at all that appealing. Not to mention Loras still dreamed of seeing Renly down in that valley, coated in mud, blood and rainwater as he faced his death with terror in his eyes.

 Squeezing through the crowed of men and women in the courtyard of the brothel, he ignored most everyone as he hurried up the steps to his shared room, passing a lady and her companion for the night as they drank on a bench outside their bedroom. Opening the door he slipped in and closed it, back to the room as he wondered if he’d even want to turn around to face Renly.

 He wasn’t even sure Renly was in.

 “Hello, Little Rose.”

 Sighing, Loras took his hat off and turned around, only to be greeted with a rather pleasant sight. In the middle of the room sat a giant copper tub filled with water and soapy bubbles, with Renly sitting right in the middle of it, leaning casually back in the basin as he smoked a cigarette. Beside the bathtub sat a table with an assortment of soaps and perfumes on it, as well as oils and combs for hair. It all looked terribly extravagant, and Loras remembered Renly telling him about how much he enjoyed taking baths.

 “I didn’t expect to see you come back just yet. I thought for sure you’d have taken Daisy for a run or something,” Renly continued. Plucking the cigarette out of his mouth, he blew the smoke into the air and smiled nervously at him. “You okay?”

 Loras shrugged and grabbed one of the chairs near the couch. Dragging it on its back feet, he plunked it down beside the tub and sat down, feet kicked out and a pout on his lips. “You’re an ass.”

 Renly sighed and leaned forward, crossing his arms on the edge of the basin, rested his chin on them, and sent Loras mournful eyes. “I’m sorry for talking about our love in front of the boys. They don’t care, though, honestly.”

 Snorting, Loras stared at the mural on the wall. “How do you know that?”

 “Because I have traveled with them for years and they know I don’t like women like they do. We’re like a family, Loras—we don’t judge, especially when you’re just a bunch of misfits who rob and cheat for a living. Where do we get off on passing judgement on others when we break the law every day?”

 “They really don’t care?” Loras asked, sighing. He looked back at Renly, watching him shake his head, a whimsical smile on his lips. “You shouldn’t have said it.”

 “I know, and I said I’m sorry.” Reaching out, Renly took Loras’ hand, their hands swinging as they both reached out to embrace. Renly’s fingers were warm and wet, the pads a little wrinkled. “We can talk about the train heist later. Jump into the bath with me and get all cleaned up.”

 The water did look tempting, and the irritation Loras felt began to melt away the longer he stared at the water. The tub was big enough for the two of them, having been made no doubt for two. This was a brothel—things were usually done in pairs. Or maybe even entire gangs. Loras didn’t much like to think about that, though. Standing he began to shed his clothes, draping them on the couch behind him. Back to Renly, he tried not to let the excitement get to him, his fingers shaking a bit as he thought about what they could do together. There was no use in being angry at Renly—not right now. For now, they’d enjoy themselves.

 Turning around once he was completely nude, Loras approached the tub, smirking at Renly as his eyes raked over his form. Loras thought he was a good looking man and was proud of his body, and apparently Renly liked it, too, his tongue darting out to wet his lips before he broke out into a grin and scooted back, giving Loras some room.

 They had been naked in front of each other before, but not since they’d consummated their relationship. Now their eyes could freely roam and Renly seemed to be taking advantage of that, his gaze locked on Loras’ groin as he stood above him in the tub before he lowered down into the soapy water. It was still warm, and Loras immediately relaxed as the water rushed along his skin, caressing him.

 “Turn around—I’ll wash your back,” Renly said, voice a bit tight. Loras did as he was told and sat between Renly’s legs. Renly ended up hooking his legs over Loras’, and Loras rested his hands on his bare thighs, eyes closing as strong, broad palms slid up his back, the scent of roses wafting in the air. “You’re all tense…”

 Loras just hummed, hands sliding up to rest on Renly’s knees. “It’s tense work, looking after you. Making sure you don’t get killed or lose your horse.”

 Chuckling, Renly rubbed Loras’ shoulders, digging his thumbs into the tense muscles. Nothing was said for a time, both enjoying the moment. Loras just concentrated on the feel of Renly’s hands on his back and the warmth of his thighs as the water lapped around them. It was amazing how easily Renly could soothe Loras. Like a spooked horse, Loras would pace back and forth as he felt trapped, every day stress making him tense and volatile. But then Renly would come along and coax him away from the anxiety he’d be feeling, gentle words and soft caresses making him come toward him like a moth to a flame. Renly was the contrast to Loras’ inner fury—like a spring shower over a raging fire.

 Scooting back a little further, Loras could feel the press of Renly’s cock again his backside, not hard but also not completely flaccid. The movement made Renly pause before his hands snaked forward to wash Loras’ chest and stomach. “Is this alright?”

 Loras nodded, his heart beating faster in his chest as Renly’s soapy hands moved further and further down until they were running through coarse curls at the base of his cock. Loras couldn’t believe how stubborn he was being about the entire affair with the train. It was the only way they’d get any money to go north—a place Renly was only going because Loras wanted to. It was all for Loras—it was always all for Loras…

_I’ve been acting like such a child…_ Loras moved just as Renly’s hand dipped further. Standing, he turned around and sat back down, straddling his waist, hands resting on his pecks as they faced each other. Renly stared up at him, eyebrows raised and lips parted, silently questioning what Loras was doing.

 “We can do the train heist. I won’t complain any longer—we’ll do what you want to do and we will get the money we need and we will go.” It was the best apology Renly would get from Loras. A thinly veiled one that spoke of Loras perhaps recognizing he was in the wrong. For a second Loras thought Renly wasn’t going to accept it, and maybe he’d fight him on it—make him actually say he was sorry. But then Renly was grinning up at him, nothing but love and friendliness in his eyes. Broad palms grasped his hips and held on gently, rubbing the smooth skin, creating goosebumps in their wake despite the warmth of the water.

 “Yeah… You’re up for a bit of an adventure, then?” Renly asked, his tongue teasing out from between his lips. Loras nodded, the true meaning behind Renly’s statement making itself known as Renly’s hands slid down to grasp his ass.

 “Yes… I’m ready to try something new… to experience something different. With you,” he mumbled, his breath hitching as Renly’s fingers squeezed his ass. He could feel his cock getting harder as Renly touched him, and he braced his hands on his shoulders, squeezing down tightly.

 Renly just smiled, head tilted to the side as he looked up at Loras. “Want to pass me that soap over there?” His gaze flicked to the bar of soap sitting beside them before their eyes were once again locked. Loras nodded and passed the bar over, hand shaking a bit as he grew excited at the prospect of what was to come. Dropping the bar in Renly’s hand, he watched as Renly lathered up his hands, making sure to coat his long, almost delicate fingers with the clean suds. Knees digging into the hard bottom of the basin, Loras stayed poised over Renly, attention completely on Renly’s hands as they put the soap down on the ledge then moved back and around, fingertips dancing along his lower back.

 Locking their eyes, Loras stared into the deep blues of Renly’s, getting lost in the lust, excitement and comfort swirling around in them. He felt Renly’s hands grip his ass once more, pulling his cheeks apart, making Loras moan softly, anticipation coursing through him. Asked him a year ago what he thought about having a man spreading his ass cheeks apart like this and he’d have thought they were crazy for coming up with such an idea. But now Loras couldn’t help but push back, wanting more.

 And Renly gave him more, his hand slipping between his cheeks to wash him. Letting out a little puff of air, Loras felt his prick swell as his hole was massaged gently—almost teasingly—as Renly worked him. Still their eyes were locked, both unable to look at anything but each other as Renly continued to massage him, little spikes of pleasure running along his nerves. Just as Loras thought he’d go mad, Renly slipped his finger inside. Gasping, Loras tried to relax as Renly’s trigger finger wiggled around inside, slow and steady as he pushed through his ring of muscles.

It felt… strange. But Loras rode it as best he could, bottom lip sucked in between his teeth and Renly moved his finger in and out, fucking him with his finger. Still nothing was said, and Loras was about to ask if there was anything more to it before Renly curled his finger and stroked _something_. Loras let out an obnoxious moan then, and panted out what he thought was ‘don’t stop’ as Renly rubbed the nub again and again, pleasuring Loras in a way he hadn’t thought possible. Renly was right—he did love it. He stroked Loras like that for some time, Loras’ head rolling back as he ground down, moaning and panting above Renly as he was flooded with pleasure.

 “You’re shaking,” Renly mumbled after a time, his hand leaving. Loras was about to protest when Renly collected more soap and began to wash his groin, fingers stroking his cock and massaging his balls.

 “I am?” Loras asked, feeling vaguely like he was but not caring too much, attention focused on Renly and his hands—nothing else.  

 “Yeah, you are,” Renly said, knuckles sliding against Loras’ perineum. “This is new for me, too.”

 Loras’ hips stopped their little downward movements, his brow rising high. “How is this new to you?”

 “I’ve never been with someone when they’re naked, too.” He smiled up at Loras, his hands going back to Loras’ hips. “I’ve never had someone undress and be as exposed as I was when I had sex with them. I was glad for it, of course—the men who paid me usually weren’t that good looking and I wanted it over and done with as fast as possible. So… this is new. And exciting… you look ravishing right now.”

  _Ravishing…_ The word made Loras smile as he tried not to dwell on what Renly told him. Renly insisted Loras not pity him, and so he tried to respect it, no matter how much it pained Loras to think about what Renly went through for years. “You look gorgeous as well,” Loras said instead, reaching out to twirl a lock of Renly’s hair around his finger. “Not even the goddess Aphrodite could compare to your beauty… you are like an oasis in the desert, giving me newfound life and purpose…” Trailing his knuckles along Renly’s jaw, Loras watched the path before he fixated on Renly’s full lips, wanting to kiss them. “You’re my sun, and I long to bask under your warm and loving rays.” He ducked down and captured Renly’s upper lip between his own, kissing him slow and soft. Immediately Renly’s hand was in his hair, tangling in the curls he loved so much.

 Sitting down on Renly’s lap, Loras felt his arousal against his underside, and let out a soft little moan as the kiss was deepened, Renly’s tongue slipping past the seam of Loras’ lips to run along the roof of his mouth and rub their tongues together. Loras was growing more confident with kissing, and went in to do the same, sliding his tongue side Renly’s mouth, tasting the peppermint leaves he always chewed, mixed in with the tobacco they both enjoyed.

 When they pulled away to catch their breath, Renly rubbed their noses together, smiling. “You’re a poet, Loras…”

 Loras laughed softly, running his hand through Renly’s damp locks. “My brother is a writer. I used to sit with him as he wrote and listened to him work his thoughts out… I guess I picked up a bit of his romantic nature.”

 “I can’t imagine you sitting still for too long,” Renly mumbled, kissing Loras again, quick but passionate. “You’re always on the move and never taking any time to appreciate the subtle things in life.”

 “I’m taking my time right now, aren’t I?” he asked, grinning. Renly returned it and nodded, before kissing him again, pressing forward so Loras had to lean back. Renly braced him upward, strong palms fanning out across his lower back while Loras wrapped his arm around his shoulders, tucked in nice and close. When they broke apart again, Loras could feel his thighs shaking as they stayed in the tub, the water cooling around them as Renly’s teeth grazed his neck, causing him to moan. “We s-should go to the bed,” he mumbled, eying the silk blankets on the bed.

  Renly mumbled out an agreement against his neck before letting go. Standing, Loras hopped out of the bath and headed to the bed, and let out a holler as Renly came up behind him and tackled him on to the bed. Sticking to the sheets, Loras tried to wrestle free from their embrace and Renly’s as they rolled around on the bed, laughing as fingers searched for ticklish spots and lips found purchase on any expanse of flesh they could find. Finally they calmed, Loras staring up at Renly, brushing his hair back as they caught their breath, cheeks pink from laughing.

 But the smile on Renly’s lips soon left, and Loras searched his eyes for some sort of indication as to why he’d suddenly gone so serious. Bumping his side with his knee, Loras quirked a brow, stretching out under Renly—a position he had automatically become so comfortable in. “What’s wrong?”

 Renly stopped searching Loras’ face then, gaze leaving his lips to come back to his eyes, the corner of his mouth moving up into a little smile. “I just realized how… happy I am. For once.”

 Loras felt his heart skip a beat as Renly spoke, the surprise behind his tone something Loras wasn’t sure he wanted to understand. Loras knew there was always pain behind Renly’s smiles and carefree attitude, and now that he was peeling back the layers, Loras wondered if he’d ever see a truly happy smile from Renly again, no longer being fooled by the show he put on. But there it was—a genuinely happy smile. And it was there all because of Loras and no one else.

 “I love you,” he said, the words coming out in a rush, as if they were all scrambling to be heard so that Renly could know that he felt it as well—that he felt that happiness, too. Renly moved down for a kiss then, passionate and ravenous as they ground together, Loras’ legs wrapping around Renly’s hips as they moved together. Hands traveled all over, Loras’ fingers tangling in Renly’s hair as Renly bit and sucked across his neck and chest, the two of them finally able to explore each other the way they’d always wanted to, no clothes separating them and no hidden emotions hindering them.

 Loras had no idea how far Renly was going to go, but when hot, open mouth kisses were applied to his inner thighs and balls, he couldn’t help but shake with nerves and anticipation, body and mind ready for that next step as Renly took him in his mouth. Arching up he let out a chocked sob, the sensation of having his cock covered by a warm mouth something so _good_ he couldn’t even have dreamed it. Toes curling and mouth open in a silent prayer, he stared between his legs at the bobbing form of Renly, his hair a dark curtain as he moved up and down, tongue twirling and cheeks warm against the glans as he worked him.

 “I-I’m close,” Loras panted out, a whimper at the end as he tried to tug Renly off of him. But Renly did not lift his head and instead sucked on the head as his fingers moved down to rub his hole, applying a bit of pressure. It was just as the tip of Renly’s finger slipped past the tight ring of muscles of his anus to stroke that spot again did Loras finally come, crying Renly’s name out as he shuddered on the bed, head tossed back and neck muscles tight as he rode out the pleasure.

 Loras couldn’t think or even breath properly as he rode through his orgasm, grip tight on Renly’s shoulder and the blankets beneath him. It seemed to last forever, Loras losing track of himself for a second, until it all came crashing back down, the ripples of desire tickling his nerves as he opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. Collapsing on the bed, he just stared, mind completely shot. He felt the bed dip and creak around him, and the sight of the ceiling was replaced with Renly’s grinning face.

 “How was that?” he asked. Loras let out a soft laugh and hooked his arm around Renly’s neck, bringing him down for a slow, lazy kiss. He could taste himself on Renly’s lips, but found it pleasant rather than repulsive. Nibbling on his bottom lip, he felt Renly’s own arousal pressed against his thigh, insistent and throbbing.

 “Can I try it on you?” Loras asked, hand snaking down to grasp Renly gently. Renly’s breathing hitched then, and he shifted so he was lying beside Loras, lips parting as he took short breaths, fingers tangling in his curls, hips bucking forward.

 “Next time. I’ll teach you how to do it later. Right now all I need is your hand and a kiss,” he said, moving in for that requested kiss just as Loras began stroking him in earnest. It didn’t take long, Renly pressing against Loras as he rutted against his hand. With a moan and a shudder he was done, Loras holding on to him as they lay tangled on the bed, limbs heavy and skin slick with sweat.

 They just lay for some time, Renly’s head resting on Loras’ shoulder as they stared up at the ceiling, the warm evening air from outside trailing in through the open windows. They could now hear the conversation from outside, the blood rushing through Loras’ veins now quiet enough so he could enjoy the hum around them.

 “I wish we could always be like this,” Loras mumbled, Renly playing with Loras’ fingers as they rested on his stomach.

 “Like what?”

 “This… lying here just the two of us. Nothing else mattering but the feel of one another and the gentle breeze outside… It would be nice to not have to worry about things.”

 “You’d get bored in a week,” Renly teased, kissing Loras’ neck before sitting up and climbing over him. Heading to his pants, he pulled out his cigarette case and plucked a smoke from it before lighting it with a match. Rolling on to his side, Loras watched Renly as he leaned against the wall and stared out the window, smoke curling out of his mouth, his profile highlighted by the lights outside. Naked and glowing under the light, Loras admired his body, all long, graceful limbs and strong, tight muscles. He looked like the statues he’d seen in books at school—like a work of art. Loras felt like he was the luckiest man in the world in that moment.  

 “I’m sorry,” Loras said suddenly. Renly turned to look at Loras, a brow raised. He continued. “I’m sorry for always leaving you and getting angry and for upsetting your friends… I’m sorry.”

 Taking a long drag of his cigarette, Renly returned to the bed and passed it to Loras, Loras taking a puff. “Firstly,” Renly began, tugging on one of Loras’ curls as he sat down, “I love it when you yell at Greyjoy—it’s entertaining and I love to see you get all riled up. Secondly, your anger is just part of your passion—I feel alive when you’re near me. I never know what you’re going to do next, and it makes me… excited and eager. It also makes you one hell of a lover. And thirdly… you’ll never leave me.”

 “I’ve done it twice,” Loras said, sitting up, resting his chin on Renly’s shoulder.

 Renly in turn rested his cheek against the top of Loras’ head, fingers tracing around his shoulder slowly. “You may leave me sometimes… but I know you’ll always come back for me. You promised me you’ll always come back…”

 Loras hummed, moving to kiss Renly slowly. “I made another promise,” he began when they broke away, lips still brushing. Loras was so close he could count every single one of Renly’s dark lashes as they brushed against his cheek, brilliant blue eyes hidden from view, his eyes closed as he sought more affection. “I made a silent promise to you that I will always protect you. That no matter what happens I’ll be there by your side making sure no one hurts you in any way. And I promise that if you do fall—if someone manages to break through my fury and my resolve and gets to you—I swear to you I’ll follow you to shield you from the devil and the demons … No matter what, Renly, I will protect you.”

 Renly opened his eyes then, trust and longing in his gaze as he focused on Loras. Rubbing their noses together, Renly grasped the back of Loras’ neck gently, heating his already flushed skin. “Like a guardian angel?”

 “I thought you didn’t believe in angels,” Loras mumbled.

 “I didn’t… until I met you, remember?”


	20. Success

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own them
> 
> Warning: Mentions of malexmale sex, gun violence, death
> 
> Authors Note: I sense a red herring... or do I?

“Why are you smiling so much?”

 “I don’t know—why are you smiling so much?”

 Greyjoy shrugged, shifting on his saddle. Loras regarded him out of the corner of his eye, most of his attention fixed on the valley below where the train tracks lay. “I had myself a good night last night.”

 “I did, too,” Loras replied. Loras ignored Greyjoys little coo.

 “Oh you did, did you? Remind me to thank Baratheon for making you less annoying for the day.” They were silent, the chirp of the grasshoppers in the sparse grass the only sound, save for the snort of Greyjoy’s horse. That was until Greyjoy started to pester Loras further. “So… how is he?”

 Smirking, Loras shook his head and turned to look at Greyjoy, his hands resting casually on the pommel of his saddle. “Spectacular if I’ll be honest with you, and even better when you consider he pulls all his tricks out for free. Tell me—how much did your good night cost you?” Loras grinned when Greyjoy shot him a look.

 “I don’t always have to pay. A lot of the girls treat me for free—they like me that much… and I give them a real good time. You should see them after I’m done with them. They can’t even stand they’re so weak in the knees.”

 “Or maybe they give you free rounds because they pity you and don’t want you to go broke. I mean, that’d just look sad: the famous Greyjoy, spending all his money on whores down in Mexico, only to return to America with a donkey as a ride and a can of beans as a pillow.”

 “You know, no matter how hard you get fucked, you’re still annoying. I take back what I said before—Baratheon is getting no thanks from me.”

 Loras laughed as Greyjoy tried to cover up his own smile by placing his bandana over his face, hiding his lips. Loras did the same, still smiling as they once again stared down at the valley, waiting for the signal. They’d been waiting for well over half an hour up on the hill, the heat bearing down on them as the minutes ticked by, making Loras’ skin itch underneath his hat. Loras had originally loathed the idea of sitting up with Greyjoy, knowing they’d only bicker, but strangely enough they were sort of getting along. Not well, of course, but it wasn’t terrible.

 Since Greyjoy had learned about his relationship with Renly he’d begun to lay off a bit, no longer quite as ready to push Loras away or purposely aggravate him. Loras suspected it was because Greyjoy cared for Renly a great deal, and he too could see the genuine happiness in Renly’s smiles since the two of them had fallen in love. If this bond could make Renly happy, perhaps Greyjoy would be the bigger man and give Loras a chance.

 Too bad Loras wasn’t willing to give Greyjoy much of one. Still, he’d get along with him for the purpose of the heist. No need to complicate things further by being angry at his partner.

 “One of the girls says I’m a serious boy with a serious cock,” Greyjoy said suddenly, snapping Loras from his musings. “What does your partner call you? Oh, that’s right, ‘Little Rose’… ain’t that quaint and oh so masculine.”

 “You know roses have thorns,” Loras drawled out, rolling his head to the side to look at Greyjoy. “And roses are famous for their pricks.” He winked.

 Greyjoy glared at him from overtop the rim of his bandana. “There is no losing for you, is there?”

 “I never lose,” Loras said smugly. “I never lose.”

 The whistle of a train horn made Greyjoy’s narrowed eyes widen, and both their attention snapped down to the valley, a plume of smoke from the stack atop the engine seen in the distance.

 “It’s coming…” Loras mumbled, hands slipping from the horn to grasp the reins tightly, Daisy prancing about, feed off her rider’s energy.

 “It sure is… Remember the plan?”

 “Run alongside, shoot anyone who tries to shoot us, keep back from the engine, and then get inside it as soon as it comes to a stop.”

 “And then?”

 “Take whatever we want and leave the front compartment to your friends.”

 “So you did listen. What a good boy you are.”

 “Don’t patronize me.” Greyjoy was silent, and Loras once again had to laugh. “You don’t even know what patronize means, do you?”

 “Shut up and ride,” Greyjoy barked out, kicking his horse to run down the ridge of the valley, a small goat trail the only pathway for the feet of the horses. Loras followed, the two going slowly until they were on flat terrain beside the train. That was when they kicked their mounts into a gallop.

 Daisy surged off ahead of Greyjoy’s slower gelding, and Loras flattened down on her, the beat of his heart matching the click of the wheels of the train as they hit against the tracks. Grabbing his rifle off his back, he looked up at the carts, seeing passengers through the dusty windows in various states of shock and fear. Most were moving away from the windows, but a few were still staring out, mouths wide open and eyes bright with curiosity and disbelief. Loras could see more of their gang coming down into the valley, Grenn’s large mount appearing up ahead of them, its ruddy tail blowing behind it as it powered its way down the track. Loras couldn’t hear any shots being fired, and wondered if this train was being guarded at all.

 But then there was the crack of gunfire on the other side of the train, and as if on cue, a rail yard worker with a gun burst out the back of one of the carts and took aim at Loras, his filthy gun shaking in his grip as the train chugged along on the tracks. The man didn’t even have a chance to fire, Loras sitting up on Daisy, squeezing his thighs down on her sides to keep in place as he took a well-placed shot at the man. He got him right in the chest, blood pooling out of the chest wound even before he’d hit the metal grating at his feet. His gun fell from his grasp as soon as he collapsed, and slipped between the two carts, landing on the tracks.

  _One down, how many more to go?_

He wondered how far they’d have to go until the Faceless Men made an appearance, and the promised block on the tracks would manifest itself, but he had little time to dwell on it as another man fired at him from an opened window, his bullets creating little dust clouds on the hill beside him. Taking aim, Loras hit the side of the cart, making the man shrink back, an automatic reaction to the ping of the bullet, and Loras took advantage of it to shoot him, getting his hand, causing him to drop his gun and slide back into the compartment, crying out in pain, loud and clear overtop the churning of the trains wheels and the pounding of his horses’ feet on the ground.

 Reloading his gun with steady fingers, Loras clicked it back into place just in time as someone came up over the roof, his movements more stealthy. _But not stealthy enough_ , Loras thought as the man came into sight just as he was flattening down on the roof to take aim.

 Something about the man made Loras pause, however. Maybe it was the way he carried himself or the tanned coloured clothing he was wearing, but just as he was taking aim he realized the man was wearing something issued.

_He’s with the military_ … Loras thought, and was almost shot for his distraction. Cursing, Loras ignored the fear that spiked through his entire body and the feeling of the bullet as it caresses his arm, and instead shot twice at the man, getting him the second time, mostly out of luck rather than skill. The screech of the brakes on the train tracks further distracted Loras from thinking about how they were attacking a military train. The loud scream of the wheels after the sound of an explosion in the distance as they came to a halt spooked Daisy, and Loras almost dropped his gun as he reined her in, keeping her steady as they slowed down to a canter before stopping completely as the train did.

 He could see the Faceless Men coming out of the woodwork then. Like shadows from the clouds they slipped down the valley and headed toward the main compartment, guns glittering in the sun while black bandanas covered their faces, hiding them from view. There was smoke pooling up in the distance on the tracks, and he now understood why the Faceless Men were known for their explosives. But he didn’t pay them much mind, and found their dramatics a bit annoying as he slipped off Daisy and climbed into the nearest compartment.

 It was filled with a bunch of men and women—no children, thank the lord. Pushing the door open he strode in, gun in hand as he kicked a fallen suitcase out of the way. “Nobody move,” he yelled, hearing someone in the next compartment saying much the same thing. It sounded like Grenn. “If you all do as I say, no one will get hurt.”

 He noticed most of the terrified faces were of Mexican descent, and he couldn’t help but curse as they looked at him with ignorance in their eyes as to what he was saying. “Don’t. Move,” he repeated, slower this time as he stepped forward. Working his way through the cart, he began taking watches and rings from the men, noticing how rich they were for a supposed poor nation. He only took from the men, using his hands to do most the talking as he put his rifle away. Pulling down the suitcases, he quickly sorted through them, deciding what he’d take and what he’s leave. He shifted through far too many undergarments for his liking…

 Everything was going smoothly for Loras as he took what he pleased, everyone in the cart doing what he requested, only a few women crying out in terror as he turned on their husband or brother, asking for their watch or even a monocle from one of them. It wasn’t until he’d reached the end that anything of note happened.

 He was sorting through a suitcase when he found a secret compartment stuffed with bills. Grinning, he began collecting the bills and putting them in his sack when something caught his eye. Stilling, he glanced into a hand mirror that lay flat against the lid of the open trunk, the barrel of a gun shining in its reflection as it was raised toward him from outside. Immediately Loras rolled out of the way, the blast from the shotgun breaking apart the wooden door on the other side, sending splinters and wood flying everywhere. A bit of wood grazed Loras’ cheek, but the sting didn’t bother him as another shot was fired in the same place. Crawling on the floor away from the door, Loras stayed low, knowing the army man wouldn’t dare shoot anyone in the compartment. But he’d get after Loras in any what he could, which was why he continued to crawl toward the other door, ammo belt and an assortment of other goods on his persons digging into him uncomfortably. Pulling his revolver out, he drew back the hammer and took a steadying breath before he jumped out of the compartment and on to the sand. He had a second to gain his balance, a little wobbly on the landing as the sand around the tracks gave way around him, but it only took a second before he was taking aim down the length of the cart, shooting the man in the thigh as he tried to get inside. Immediately the man fell back and out of the cart, collapsing on the sand as he gripped his leg in pain.

 Blood pooled out around him as he moaned, Loras hurrying over to inspect him further. Kicking the shotgun away, Loras aimed his revolver down at the man, not looking at his pained face but concentrating on his uniform. It was definitely Mexican military, and Loras suspected those in the compartments had something to do with the military—whether family or politicians or just rich folk who rode on the coattails of the army.

 “What have you got?” Grenn asked, jumping out of his compartment as others did the same down the line.

 “Military man—we took a military train,” Loras said, shooting the man in the head as he began screaming at him in Spanish—most likely cursing him.

 “No shit…” Grenn said, honestly surprised as he approached, looking down at the body with curiosity. “I never paid any attention…”

 “Yeah, and I bet whatever the Faceless Men wanted, it has to do with the government. And I want no part in any government affairs,” Loras said, jumping back into the compartment to grab his bag of things. No one in the compartment dared to fight back as he slipped out, leaving them be. Finally.

 Loras heard some yelling down the way, and watched as Tarly came tumbling out of a compartment, followed by Snow. They both looked shaken, but there was a grin on Snow’s face as they hurried up the hill toward where the horses had begun loitering. Following, Loras spotted Daisy a short distance away, and smiled as she came toward him at a trot, ears perked forward. Rubbing her nose, he patted her neck and jumped up on her before kicking her off toward the meeting spot. He saw the Faceless Men coming out the front compartment, once again moving swiftly and quietly, their shapes the same, no man more distinguishable from the last.

 They were eerie, and made Loras feel distinctly on edge. He was glad to be away from them, and even happier to be a member of the gang he was.

 There was a thump behind him, and he turned to see Tarly had fallen off his horse, Renly caught between helping him and laughing at him as he too stumbled off his horse.

 Well, most days he was happy to be a member of their gang.

XX

 The celebrations began early, whiskey and tequila in everyone’s glasses as they swarmed the courtyard of the brothel. Music began playing and candles were light up everywhere, the night air buzzing with energy and good humour.

 “To Sam the Slayer!” Snow roared, his glass high in the air. Everyone else cried out the same thing, glasses raised as the entire brothel celebrated the shy man in the middle, face bright red and hands gripping his glass. Knocking back the rest of his whiskey, Loras grinned at Sam, sending him a wink as they locked eyes.

 Sam had apparently killed one of the generals of the Mexican Army on their heist. He claimed it was by accident—the man had come bursting through and Sam pulled the trigger more out of fear than anything. But the bullet pierced the man’s heart and stories of his victory began to circulate almost immediately. He earned the nickname Slayer by the time the sun had set, and so the gang had taken him to the brothel to celebrate, men they’d never met in their lives coming over to share a drink with the embarrassed outlaw.

 Loras assumed the general who was killed wasn’t much liked by most, and that the death was a good one—a proper one; one that would benefit everyone in the town and across Mexico, both outlaws and regular citizens alike. Loras was glad for that, knowing this was Sam’s first killing. It was made easier knowing who you killed would benefit more than just a few men looking for some money.

 Sitting down at a table, Loras eyed the goods that had been spilled out on top of it, Grenn and Pyp shuffling through the assortment they’d collected. Pearls and gold, combs and watches, a few bills lying here and there—all of it expensive and easily sold in the black market. Picking up a pearl necklace, Loras ran his fingers along it before rubbing one of the pearls against his teeth.

 “What are you doing?” Pyp asked, fiddling with a deck of cards he’d stolen.

 “Seeing if they are real,” Loras explained. “If they feel a little gritty against your teeth you know you have real ones.”

 “They make fake ones now?” Grenn asked over the din of voices around them.

 “Yeah, for the last six or seven years.” Taking the bottle of whiskey, Loras poured another glass and tossed the necklace back in the pile. “Those are real.”

 “What did you get?” Grenn asked as Loras sat back and sipped his whiskey, only to have the back of his chair knocked forward, someone pumping into him. Rolling his eyes, Loras once again rested his arms overtop the table, fingers a bit sticky from the spilled drink.

 “Usual things—watches, cigarette cases, even a monocle.”

 “No pearls or jewelry?” Pyp asked.

 Loras shook his head. “I don’t steal from the ladies.”

 Snorting, Grenn shook his head and tossed a ring back in the pile. “Well aren’t you chivalrous.”

 “I try,” Loras said, winking before taking a large sip of his drink, enjoying the burn of the whiskey as it trailed down his throat. There was a burst of noise off near Sam again, and Loras looked to the side to see Sam being lifted up and pulled into a makeshift dance floor with one of the women, the two dancing to the authentic Mexican music. While Loras watched, an amused smile on his lips, another figure in the corner caught his eye.

 It was Greyjoy, sitting in the shadows with a girl, his hand on her thigh while the other clutched a half full bottle of tequila in his hands as he glowered at the crowed. _What’s wrong with Greyjoy?_ he wondered, belatedly realizing there was a chin resting on his shoulder and a nose nuzzling against his ear.

 “What are you looking at?” Renly’s slow, easy voice made Loras break out into a soft smile. Turning around in his chair, Renly leaning back to give him room. He was still nice and close, though, leaning forward in his chair as he slid his hand on top of Loras’ knee, rubbing it gently.

 “Looking at Greyjoy,” Loras said. The mention of Greyjoy made Renly sigh heavily and shake his head, long black locks flopping out of the loose braid they were in.

 “Yeah, he’s been in a right mood since the stories about Tarly started to circulate,” Renly said, taking Loras’ glass, draining the rest of it. “He hates that Tarly is being called the Slayer and has managed to get himself a proper outlaw name and a bit of fame.”

 “Doesn’t Greyjoy have one?”

 Renly shook his head and poured another glass. “Nope, Greyjoy is his last name—a last name that has a nasty reputation down in the Louisiana marshes. His family come from a bunch of pirate stock, and they take what they want. Greyjoy wasn’t cut out for it, even though he thought he was, and came up here to make a name for himself, separate from his families. Only, he hasn’t managed to do that. So he’s pouting,” Renly explained. Standing, he grabbed the bottle of whiskey and jerked his head to the side. “Come on.”

 Loras nodded and stood, following Renly through the crowd of people, the buzz from the alcohol in his system making him giddy as they went to sit on a bench away from the rest of the party. Sitting down beside Renly, Loras stole his glass back and drained it, Renly’s hand on his thigh making him feel warm as a tingle spread through his body. He didn’t care they were in public, and let Renly touch him freely, the two simply shadowed lovers at night.

 “So he’s angry that he’s not famous?” Loras asked, knocking his head back against the wall, rolling it to the side to look at Renly.

 “Basically,” Renly began, tugging one of Loras’ curls gently with his free hand as the other continued to rub up and down his thigh. “I mean, think about it—I’m known as the Stag for my belt-buckle and because I’m from up north. Tarly is now the Slayer. Snow got his name for being always so cold and aloof, and for having killed his first man when it snowed for the first time in years down in the Carolinas. And you—well, you’re the Rose. But Greyjoy is just Greyjoy… nothing more, nothing less.”

 Loras hummed, eyelids feeling heavy as he watched Renly’s lips as he spoke, enjoying how he enunciated his words and how his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. Reaching out, he brushed a lock of Renly’s hair behind his ear, sighing happily. He felt amazing right now. “Do you have any Indian in you?” he asked after a time, Renly giving him a bemused smile.

 “I don’t know, maybe I do… why?”

 “Your hair… it’s so thick and black. Reminds me of the hair I saw when we ran into that Dothraki tribe…” Dropping his hand down, he rested it on Renly’s chest, feeling the course fabric of his vest and the beat of his heart under his fingertips. Loras had taken to resting his hand over Renly’s chest at night—a reassuring habit that reminded him Renly was there and alive and well. Only now Renly’s heartbeat seemed slower as the alcohol dulled his senses, making him grin like a fool as Renly nuzzled their noses together.

 “You’re drunk.”

 “Maybe,” Loras said. He wasn’t sure if he was. He’d had some to drink, but not too much. It was mostly the mood around him that was making him so relaxed and happy. They’d done a successful heist, they’d gathered more than enough money to go North, and he was guaranteed at least one more night on a comfy bed in the arms of his lover. There was really no reason not to smile and laugh.

 “I don’t know if I have any Indian in me, though,” Renly said, going back to the previous conversation as Loras closed his eyes and listened. “I never knew my parents—I can’t even remember what they looked like, so I have no idea what sort of heritage I’ve got.”

 Loras let out a little puff of air then, and opened his eyes to look into Renly’s. He seemed… sad, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it for Renly was moving into kiss him slowly, Loras’ lips parting automatically as they embraced. It was a habit Renly had become accustomed to, now. Where once he’d stare off into the distance to tell Loras he was done talking about his past, now he’d sneak in for a kiss, distracting the both of them as they escaped the demons of their past.

 “Let’s go up to our room,” Loras said when they broke apart. Stealing the bottle from Renly, he took another swig straight from it. “I have something to show you.”

 “Is it your backside?” Renly asked, helping Loras stand as they wandered up the stairs, the two holding on to each other as Loras took another drink of whiskey.

 “Mm, later. I actually have something to show you,” Loras said as they opened the door and stepped into their room. The gas lights had yet to be turned on, and they were bathed in darkness, the only light coming from the open windows and candles that burned down below. Feeling his way toward the couch, Loras sat down as soon as he’d found it as Renly began turning on the gaslights, slowly lighting the room. When he was done he joined Loras on the couch, feet kicked out to rest on the table as they lounged together.

 Reaching into his vest pocket, Loras pulled out a wad of bills, dropping all of the money between the two of them on the couch. “I found all these bills in a secret compartment in one of the trunks. It’s all American, too. So much for investing in their own country, huh?”

 Renly broke out into a grin and sat up, automatically going to count through them all. “This is amazing, Loras. I was afraid we’d have to waste time trying to sell all the stuff we’d stolen in order to get enough money to go. But we’ve got enough to get started right here.”

 “Told you I had something to show you,” Loras mumbled, smiling smugly.

 “Anything else you wanted to show me?” Renly asked, reaching out to tug a curl. Loras couldn’t help but shiver, the thought of spending the rest of the evening having their own celebration all alone too much for him and his alcohol addled mind. Grinning even brighter, Loras nodded and stood up, kicking his boots off before working on his belt buckle, flicking it open and sliding his belt off.

 Renly seemed fully prepared to just watch, sitting back on the couch as Loras started to strip down. Fumbling a bit with the buttons on his shirt, Loras rolled his eyes and let out little frustrated growls as he finally worked them open and tossed his vest and shirt off, throwing them on to the chair behind him. Turning back around and once again smiling, Loras pulled his pants down and stepped out of them, picking them up and tossing them on to the chair with the rest of his clothes. Now completely naked he stretched his arms above his head and cracked his back, grinning at Renly.

 “This is also what I wanted to show you,” he said, dropping his arms down as Renly’s eyes roamed all over.

 “Money beside me and a naked man in front of me… I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Renly said, smiling up at Loras as Loras straddled his waist, coming down for a slow kiss that tasted of whiskey and victory.

 “Are you going to get naked, too?” Loras asked when they broke apart, moving with Renly as he pushed him down on to the couch, American bills sticking to his skin as Renly hovered above him. “I want to learn something new tonight.”

 “You want to learn something new every night,” Renly said, taking off his shirt with speed and tossing it across the way. Working on his belt and pants, Loras lay on the couch and bit his bottom lip, eager for what was to come. “What did you want to learn tonight?” Renly asked, lowering down on top of Loras, skin pressed against skin. Bracing his hand on the couch beside his head, Loras listened to the crinkle of bills under Renly’s hand, their groins automatically grinding together in slow, lazy circular motions.

 “I want to… do that thing. With my mouth. On your cock.”

 Snorting, Renly pressed his forehead against the side of Loras’ head. “You want to suck my cock? Is that what you’re getting at?”

 “Yeah… suck your cock,” Loras mumbled, hugging Renly close, fingers running through his braided hair, pulling more strands out. “I want to suck your cock and then have you finger me again.”

 “You sure you’ll be able to do that?” Renly asked, nipping Loras’ earlobe. “I have a really big cock—I don’t know if that pretty little mouth of yours can handle it.”

 “ _You_ can do it.”

 “Mm, I can do it.”

 Loras paused then, brows furrowed. “Did you just insult the size of my penis?”

 Renly just started to laugh.

XX

 Loras was floating as he lay on the bed, eyes closed and limbs heavy with sleep as he pressed against Renly. The lights had been turned off as soon as they’d gone to bed, the two making love until well into the early morning hours, both insatiable as they rolled on the couch and the floor, against the wall and finally on to the bed, touching and exploring every part of each other’s body. They’d drank more than they should have, the empty bottle of whiskey  a reminder of that as it sat on the floor, glittering under the moonlight.

 Finally they’d fallen asleep, Renly turning the lights off and curling close to Loras, their breath tasting of alcohol and each other. Loras felt so satisfied, and when he woke from a dream as the sun began to rise, he couldn’t help but lay limp on the bed, head still muddled from the whiskey and limbs still heavy from satisfaction. Pressing his face against the back of Renly’s neck, Loras hugged him closer, nuzzling the skin and kissing him gently as he drifted back to sleep.

 The slamming of their door and the bright light that cascaded into the room woke both of them with a start. Heart leaping into his throat, a headache blossomed between his eyes in an instance as he sat up, Renly almost falling off the bed.

 Greyjoy was standing in the doorway, hair a mess and clothes half on, fear in his face.

 “What’s going on?” Loras asked, suddenly sober and awake, the terror in Greyjoy’s eyes entirely too real.

 “Fire—the barn is on fire.”


	21. Grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own them
> 
> Warning: Animal death/Animal cruelty 
> 
> Authors Note: This was a hard chapter to write, but it was needed. Loras finally realizes what life is really like-- harsh and unfair and full of revenge.

 Loras didn’t remember much of anything as he ran down the steps and out toward the barn. He didn’t remember putting his clothes on, didn’t remember telling Renly to get going, and he certainly didn’t remember pushing Greyjoy out of the way in his desperate attempt to get to the barn.

 What he did remember was the smoke and heat as he ran out of the brothel and into the early morning light; what he did remember was the yelling all around from men and women alike, buckets filled with water in the hands of some, while others panicked at the sight of the fire; and what he did remember, and what he’ll never forget, was the way the flames seemed to tear away at the wood of the barn, ripping and devouring every inch of the shelter that it possibly could, tall flames flicking up at the sky and out the sides, as if it was trying to claim more of the world, like it wanted to eat the stars and the moon and the rising sun.

 Standing out in front of the barn the heat hit Loras like a wall and he froze , staring at the gates of hell and flinching as the warmth flicked at his skin and burned away at his eyes.

 “Where are the horses?”

 Renly’s voice broke through the cacophony of sound, and Loras ripped his gaze away from the flames to see that there were no horses out in the clearing. None—not a single one. That was when the dull realization that something bad was happening turned into a full out roar inside his veins, ripping his heart out and shoving it in his throat for him to gag on as the understanding that Daisy wasn’t there hit.

_Daisy is still in the barn._

_Daisy is in that inferno._

Loras shot off then, trying to reach the barn, crazed panic making him surge toward the flames like a mad-man. The heat didn’t even faze him as he ran toward the fire coated barn, the buckets of water doing nothing to stop the flames. And yet still he headed toward it, desperate to get inside—he had to save his horse.

 But hands were grabbing him, then. Strong and tight they pulled him back, dragging him away from the flames. Stumbling, Loras tried to fight whoever it was, numbly realizing he was screaming even though he couldn’t hear it in his own head. But the way his throat was burning and his jaw was aching told him he was saying something—something he couldn’t understand and didn’t care to as the flames danced across the barn and reflected in his wide, terrified eyes.

 Ripping away from the hands that held on to him, Loras twirled and slammed his fist against the person’s jaw, sending them backward, more from shock than from the impact. Immediately Loras’ hand began to throb, pain spiking through his knuckles and wrist, but he didn’t care, the mad urgency to get into the barn overwhelming. But he was stopped again, the person he’d hit grabbing on to his arm, tugging him backward.

 “You little piece of shit—you can’t go in there so fucking stop trying,” Greyjoy yelled at him, one hand firmly gripping his shirt sleeve while the other rubbed his jaw.

 “Daisy is in there,” Loras said, voice frantic and eyes still wide as he desperately tried to get away. He was getting weaker, though, the adrenaline in his system giving up as the fire continued to burn. _They’re all dead_ , he thought numbly as he was further dragged away, Greyjoy pushing through the crowed, working his way toward Renly. _None of them got out—the flames were too fast. They’re all dead._

Loras followed Greyjoy and let himself be pulled into a hug as soon as they were near Renly. He stayed stiff in Renly’s arms, chin resting on his shoulder as Renly cooed in his ear, trying to reassure him even though no words were getting through to Loras. He knew people were watching, the two embracing in the middle of the panic, but he didn’t care, eyes staring straight ahead as the flamed roared on behind him. Renly began talking to someone after Loras remained unresponsive, but his hand stayed tight around him, hands rubbing up and down his back.

_They’re all dead._

_Every single one of them._

_Burned to death._

_All of them._

Loras didn’t know how to feel. The terror that had flooded his system had left, leaving everything seem far off and distant, reality having not yet set in. Was there anything he could feel? Was there anything substantial? Was there any comfort?

_They’re all dead…_

 Closing his eyes, he leaned heavily on Renly, breathing short and shallow as he thought of nothing, felt nothing—was nothing. He didn’t know how long they stood there, everything so far away—so distant and removed. All he could feel was Renly’s hands on his back and the buzz of his chest as he spoke, rocking the two back and forth as panic swelled all around him.

 But it was when he opened his eyes that he saw it. Off in the distance—a shape… large and round, it stuck out beside the cacti that circled around it. Crumbled over, it looked like it had fallen on the spot. He didn’t know why it stuck out to him—he wasn’t sure why it mattered while the barn continued to burn behind him, most people having given up on putting it out.  Pulling away from Renly, Loras started to walk toward it, the cool morning light becoming brighter in the sky as he kept walking, eyes locked on the dark mass. He knew Renly was following him, asking him where he was going as he kept walking, speeding up as he drew closer and closer. Colour began to seep into the mass, a bit of gold and white, speckled with red—red and flowing and so fucking _dark_. Breath hitching in his throat, a cold dread seeped into his bones as he drew closer and closer, boots kicking stones out of the way as he stumbled across the desert plains. Renly’s voice was growing more insistent behind him, fear evident in his voice.

 “Don’t look at it, Little Rose! Don’t fucking look at it!” Renly yelled, desperation in his voice as Loras came closer to the grave of the golden mare. Stopping just outside the ring of cacti, Loras stared into Daisy’s dead eye…

 And screamed.

 The pain ripped through him like a hot iron, scalding his insides, making him heave as he collapsed down beside Daisy’s fallen form. An overwhelming ache took hold inside, squeezing his guts and his lungs, breath coming out in short, laboured pants as he stared unseeingly at the blood stained rocks in front of him. Tears welled up in his eyes and burned a trail down his cheeks as he gasped for breath, his fingers digging into the stones, gripping them tightly. The pebbles burrowing into his tender palms, breaking the skin and making him bleed.

 Loras had no concept of where he was and what had happened, body reacting so violently to what was in front of him that he thought he’d lost his mind. All he could feel was the all-consuming sense of loss. It was so real and so heavy that it physically hurt Loras, his breathing still ragged and shallow as he prayed to his god through parched lips asking for him to just stop it all—to just take him away from it all.

 “Please, H-Heavenly Father, please have mercy upon my soul and grant me forgiveness for the sins I have brought upon myself. Please give her b-back to me. P-Please, d-don’t take her from me—don’t d-do this to me. I have been y-your faithful servant please don’t p-punish me. Give her back… give her back, God. Give her back to me. JUST GIVE HER FUCKING BACK!”  He squeezed down hard on the rocks in his hands before throwing them away, the pebbles and stones arching over Daisy’s fallen form. Moving forward, he lifted Daisy’s head and placed it on his lap, curling in on himself to hug her, fingers tangling in her milky mane streaked with blood. Sobbing, he held her as close as he could, her weight nothing in his arms as he lost himself once more.

 He stayed like that for some time, curled around her, refusing to move even as his limbs began to ache and the tears stopped flowing. He had no more to give, despite the sobs that continued to wrack his body. It was only when the sun had risen and the bright blue sky opened up atop them, did Loras feel hands on his shoulders.

 “We need to move.” Renly’s voice was soft and tender, his breath tickling the back of Loras’ neck. Loras shook his head, not wanting to leave her. But when Renly moved to help him up Loras went without qualms, laying her head down gently, not fighting Renly’s gentle tugging. Standing, he stumbled as his knees aches from their strained position. Renly caught him, however, and he stayed in his arms, face pressed tight against his neck, feeling his pulse against his lips.

 “Who did this?” Loras asked, voice incredibly tiny and weak.

 Renly didn’t answer for a while, silence surrounding them. Finally he sighed and pulled away, hands braced on Loras’ shoulders. “There was… a box… a box of ammo beside Daisy. I picked it up while you were…” Sighing again, Renly reached into his vest pocket and pulled out the box. Small and unassuming, Loras reached for it, hands trembling as familiarity wormed its way into his chest.

_“You should have seen how one of these went through the head of a horse.”_

 “These are… these are the bullets that Bolton man was going on about,” he whispered, throat hoarse from screaming. He gripped the box tightly then, crunching the paper under his hand, the bullets spilling out on the desert floor. Looking down at Daisy, he finally noticed the bullet hole right in the middle of her star. “I’m going to kill them all,” Loras hissed out, shoving past Renly. Rage filled him then—hot and unfiltered and pure. This was something he was used to; this was something he could handle. Those men—those despicable monsters—deserved to die. Every last one of them deserved to die. They were a pestilence—a disease on the land.

 But Renly was once again reached for him, hands gripping his arm, wrenching him back as Loras tried to pull away. “No, Loras—you can’t do this,” he said, gripping his shirt tighter as Loras tried to wrestle free.

 “Why are you stopping me?” Loras cried, trying to push Renly away as they struggled on the sand. Didn’t he understand? Didn’t he know that he had to do this—that these men had to pay? They took Daisy from him; they killed his only constant and his truest companion. They killed her like some mangy mutt. But Renly wasn’t letting him go and Loras grew more and more frustrated, anger bubbling up in him as he kept trying to get away. “I need to get my guns.”

 “No, you don’t, Loras. You need to calm do—“

 “I AM CALM,” Loras yelled, striking Renly hard on the cheek. For a second time he felt pain spike through his hand, but he grabbed hold of that ache and used it, further fueling his rage and his need for revenge. But Renly wasn’t having any of it, his own eyes bright with sorrow and hurt as he grabbed Loras and held on to him, wrapping his arms tight around him even as Loras squirmed and kicked and fought, insults flying past his cracked lips as he began to cry again. But no matter how much he struggled, Renly held on, even as they fell to the ground as Loras made them lose their balance. Rolling on the rough, parched ground, Loras tried to scramble away from Renly, needing to get to his guns and just do _something_. To get revenge for her death and all the other horses that died. All of them that died because of what _he_ did.

 “Let me go,” Loras said, clawing at the ground. Renly managed to get the upper-hand then, and rolled him over and straddle his waist. “I need to go make them suffer, Renly. I need them to pay for what they did. I caused this, Renly. I n-need to make amends.” He was growing weak as the sorrow once again took over, wrists clutched in Renly’s grip as he lay on the ground beneath him, heart hammering away in his chest.

 “You can’t do this, Loras. Your need for revenge is what started this in the first place,” Renly said, looming over him, his shadow casting him in darkness. Loras didn’t look at him though, his eyes closed as Renly continued to berate him, his words making little sense to his grief clouded mind. “You caused this because you refused to become apathetic—you caused your horses death because of a good deed. But this world, Loras—this world doesn’t reward good deeds. It only makes you suffer. You can’t go running off because you’ll only make it worse.”

 “They can’t get away,” Loras cried out, once again getting violent. But Renly held on strong, using his weight and height to his advantage as he pinned Loras to the ground. “They can’t win.”

 “And you can’t win, either.” Renly’s voice was harsh and Loras felt like he’d been slapped. Opening his eyes he stared up at Renly, lips parted as he tried to get his breath back. Renly’s features were hard for a second, until they softened, bright blue hues awash with pain as he looked down at Loras, a bit of blood on his lip from where Loras had hit him. “You can’t always win, Loras. I know you think you can, but you can’t. Life out here isn’t fair and it isn’t just, and I know you want to change that—I know you do. You’re like a knight, Loras, filled to the brim with chivalry and old-fashion ideologies. But real life doesn’t work like it does in your brother’s stories. Life isn’t fair, Little Rose.”

 Loras stared up at Renly, his face framed by long black locks and a bright blue sky. Looking up at him it was then that Loras heard what he’d said, his voice clear and level, no longer muffled and muted. The ringing in his ears and the screaming in his chest began to wane as he stared up at Renly, fingers relaxing out of the fists they’d been squeezed into it _. Life isn’t fair…_

 Loras let out a chocked sob as Renly’s words finally broke through to him in that instance. The anger and the hot rage that took hold in him left like smoke, and cold realities took its place, making him feel empty and pitiful, weak and useless. Renly’s grip on his wrists relaxed as he began to cry once more, body limp on the ground as he stared up at him, searching for strength in the eyes of his lover. Sitting up he wrapped his arms around Renly and hugged him close, bloodied hands gripping his shirt for dear life as the agony of loss ushered him into adulthood.

XX

 They buried her that day.

 All of the gang had come out, shovels in their hands—some they’d borrowed, others they’d ‘taken’ from farms around the town. They didn’t say anything, just started to help Loras as the ground gave way inch by inch. Loras only drank water when Renly prompted him to, but he never felt the liquid slide down and cool his body. He didn’t feel much at all, really. Even when the wood dug into his scratched and broken hands, still he did not feel the sting or the burn.

 His throat was raw and his eyes were sore, arms aches and feet throbbed. But still he worked on, Greyjoy, Snow, Tarly and Pyp, Grenn and Renly, all of them beside him as they dug a grave for one, while the rest of the town dug numerous shallow ones for the horses lost in the burnt out barn. It wasn’t until the sun had begun to lower did they get her fallen form inside the grave, Loras having wrapped his bandana around her eyes as she was laid to rest. Taking a scoop of dirt in his hand he sprinkles it on top of her, saying a few prayers until his voice gave out on him and all he could do was stare. Renly even said a few words, as did Greyjoy, although they were just simple things, such as ‘You were a beauty’ and the like.

 Loras knew this had become a spectacle and he knew that he was receiving looks, but he did not care. His bond with his horse, however, was something he’d cherished since he was a child, and he wasn’t going to let the curious looks from his gang members deter him from seeing her off properly.

 They piled stones atop her grave and finally made a small cross out of some wood they’d found, trying it with a bit of twine. It was all done as soon as the sky had turned into soft purples and light pinks, and the boys went off to drink and eat, all of them needing and deserving a rest. But Loras and Renly stayed. Sitting down in front of the pile of stones, Loras just stared at her grave; at the death he’d caused because of his own glory mongering and his hubris. Renly stayed with him, bandaging Loras’ hands as they bruised and became tender from the stones that had broken the skin and the punches he’d swung in his madness.

 _Renly’s lip is split_ , Loras noticed dully, but he did nothing and just sat beside him in the darkness, the stars their only light as clouds hid the moon.

 “How’d you do it?” Loras asked after a time, voice quiet as he stared at the highest rock.

 “How did I do what?” Renly asked, staring at Loras.

 Sighing, Loras turned away from the stone and regarded Renly, not really seeing him, but finding comfort in his presence none-the-less. “Bury your friends for all these years… how’d you do it?”

 Renly smiled sadly at Loras, and cupped the back of his neck, pulling him forward to kiss his forehead. His lips were hot and dry against his own heated skin. “I just did it. I didn’t think about it… just grabbed that shovel and did what I had to do. It gets easier… it gets easier after a time.”

 Sighing, Loras gently wrapped his arms around Renly’s waist and curled up against him, head tucked under his chin as his body finally gave out on him. “I don’t know if I want it to get easier,” he mumbled. “I don’t know if I want it to…”


	22. Forgiveness in a Valley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own them
> 
> Warning: None
> 
> Authors Note: Goin' to the North next chapter, but first we have to tie up loose ends down South.

 They stayed in the old inn the next day, Renly and Loras sharing a cot in a narrow room, crammed in with the rest of the gang.

 Littlefinger hadn’t officially kicked them out, but both Loras and Renly knew when they were not wanted—no matter how much money they had. Loras wasn’t surprised by his sudden cool disposition toward them. After all, they had brought the ire of the Bolton gang down upon the entire brothel and their patrons. The damages to the barn were substantial, so much so that Loras was hesitant to even call it a barn anymore. It was just a smoulder pile of wood and ash, a few bits of the frame sticking up like skeleton claws. The gang had made sure it wouldn’t be saved, it seemed.

 But the barn wasn’t the only causality. Fifteen horses died from the fire itself, while six has to be shot due to the smoke. And then there was, of course, Daisy.

 Loras hadn’t wanted to see the barn—he didn’t want to bear witness to the damages he had caused because of his stupidity. But Renly suggested it might be good to actually see it rather than let his mind conjure up macabre images that were more horrible than the last. Only, as Loras stood before the remains of the barn, observing the smoke curl up around what was once a horses’ stall, he didn’t think he’d have been able to imagine a worse image even if he tried. 

 He decided he needed a drink after that.

 And so he spent the night nursing a bottle of tequila, half of it already gone when he’d grabbed hold of it, and more of it doomed to be poured into a shot glass, only to burn a trail down a throat that was sore.  His palms were tender from the cuts they’d sustained, his eyes glassy and lips chapped, but his physical deterioration meant little as he sat and tried to just not think. If he became nothing, maybe he wouldn’t remember what he had lost, and if he didn’t remember, he wouldn’t feel the incredible ach in his chest and the guilt that sat on his shoulders, weighing him down. Greif seemed to squeeze across him like the sick resemblance of a lovers’ embrace. He felt as if he was going to burst from the pressure.

 But he had no more tears to give and anger to unleash. So, really, all in all, his plan to become nothing was working rather well. For now. He knew as soon as he went to bed and lay in the dark he’d see Daisy’s dead eye staring up at him, and smell the smoke and the burning flesh all over again.

 Renly had sat with him for a time, but went off to play a game of poker with Greyjoy, Pyp and Snow. Loras didn’t blame him for not wanting to spend much time with him. He didn’t feel much like spending time with anyone-- not even himself. The grief made him bitter, the bitterness made him sullen, and the sullenness made him brood. And drink. And forget anyone was even around. But Renly had been good to Loras; a silent companion who did not begrudge Loras for what had happened, even though it was clearly his fault. He wanted to thank Renly for supporting him and stopping him from running off to get himself killed. He wanted to thank him for just being there, even when he was being utterly self-absorbed and annoying. But instead he sat, drank, and listened to the hum of quiet conversation around him, punctuated by laughter and a merriment that spoke of life and continuation.

 Staring at the wall of alcohol in front of him, Loras sighed and ran a hand through his hair, fingers tugging at a curl. He was just beginning to enjoy his alone time when a figure sat own beside him and pressed in close, a kiss pressed against his temple.

 “Guess what.”

 Sighing again, Loras turned to look at Renly, leaning into his touch as long fingers brushed back his hair. “What?” he asked dully.

 “You remember how I lose things frequently?” Renly asked, ignoring Loras’ less than enthusiastic response.

 “Mm, yes, and sometimes you never find them again. Like your mind.”

 Renly playfully batted Loras’ arm, still grinning. He kissed his cheek again. “Remember how I always lose Ricochet?”

 Loras’ stomach dropped. He had completely forgotten about Ricochet in his grief over Daisy. Of course he wasn’t the only one who had lost his companion and his livelihood. Twenty-one other men had lost their horse—including Renly. The guilt increased tenfold then, his mouth going dry and eyes downcast as he stared anywhere but at Renly.

 “I… vaguely remember…” Loras murmured, throat tight.

 But Renly kept smiling, no pain was in his eyes as he kissed Loras again, fingers still carding through his hair, soothing Loras despite the tension he felt in his stomach and neck. “There were twenty-three horses in that barn, Little Rose. I got the records from Littlefinger.”

 “Thank you for reminding me how many horses I killed,” Loras drawled, finishing the last of the tequila in his shot glass, embracing the burn.

 “That wasn’t my point.”

 “Then what is your point?” Loras snapped. The crest-fallen look on Renly’s face automatically made Loras regret his tone. Frowning, he quietly apologized and raised Renly’s hand to his mouth, kissing his knuckles. It was becoming easier for Loras to forget the rest of the world existed when Renly was with him, physical displays of their close bond no longer bothering him while they were in a public forum. Loras didn’t know if people were just more accepting than he thought, or they were too afraid to say anything to two heavily armed men. Regardless, Loras kept Renly’s hand in his own, feeling his heat, a welcome reprieve from the lifeless, cold glass that had been in his grasp before.

 “My point is,” Renly continued, “that there were twenty-three horses in the barn, but only twenty-two horses perished… Loras, Ricochet wandered off at night like he always does. He may still be alive.”

 And there it was; a feeling Loras hadn’t been aware he was missing.

 Hope.

XX

 It was surprisingly difficult to go looking for a horse without another horse to aid you.

 Wandering down a path they had been told lead to a valley under the cool morning light, Loras was reminded of his second counter with Renly a little over a year ago, a sense of deja vu prickling his palms and heating his chest. Only instead of being on a horse, Loras was stuck down on the ground with Renly, Renly nattering on about how much he loved his “big, dumb animal’s crazy quirks”. Loras couldn’t help but smile as Renly walked beside him, their hands loosely linked together. It felt good to smile.

 But it felt even better to have a purpose and to be doing something with the possibility that what they were doing might save Renly’s horse—the lone survivor of Loras’ follies—making it even better. He didn’t know how long the good feeling would last, but he was determined to make the best of it before the loss caught up to him again.

His grandmother had told him once that grief was a funny thing. The pain would go away, sometimes for years on end, and sometimes you’d even forget about it. But then one day it’d hit, something reminding you of what you lost, whether it be a habit you used to do when they were around or a sound or a smell, maybe even a touch. And then that grief would sit with you—maybe for a minute, a day or maybe for years. The thing with grief was it never really left. It would be forgotten and brushed aside to make room for other things, but it was never gone—not completely.

 All that mattered, she said, was remembering to hold on to other things too; like friendship and happiness and love.

 “I hope that the inn keeper wasn’t lying when he sent us this way,” Renly said, peering down the dirt trail that was slowly becoming redder in colour the further they ventured. “My Spanish is terrible and his English is worse. Between the two of us he could have been telling me to go to the end of Mexico and down to the tip of the continent after thinking I asked where to locate the lost treasure of an Indian Princess from long ago.”

 Loras would actually like to see that—maybe he’d suggest they try their hand at treasure hunting. But for now he just laughed as he brushed away the almost continual anxiety in his stomach. “You two looked like quite the pair. I suspect passer-by thought you were acting out a dramatic scene from a Shakespearian play the way you were flinging your arms around and talking loudly and slowly.”

 Renly laughed, nodding in agreement. There was a lull in the conversation then, and a nice silence replaced Renly’s low, even baritone voice as they walked further, the trail becoming more slopped and the ground a darker red as they neared the supposed pitted valley. But with the silence and the peace came a time for reflection, and Loras found himself once again thinking of Daisy and the loss he was feeling and the hole she had left.

 Where once Loras had embraced silence, he now feared it more than he’d thought possible.

 “Was this your first?” Renly asked, snapping Loras from his daze.

 “My first what?”

 “Was it your first death? I mean, other than the ones you’ve inflicted.”

 Sighing, Loras shook his head. “My grandpappy died when I was a kid. And we lost some horses and cows on the farm now and again… I’ve seen death before.”

 “But never been the cause of it?”

 “If only that were true… You’ve seen all the men I’ve killed. I’m not innocent, by far… I just… this one is hard.”

 Loras felt Renly’s arm wrap around his shoulder, tugging him in close, gently rocking them from side to side as they moseyed further down the trail, the ground becoming rough as they shadow of the valley drew closer to engulfing them whole. “She was close to you, Loras. Of course it’s gonna be hard. Doesn’t matter if she was just a horse—she was your friend… anyone you have time to build a bond with is going to affect you, no matter the species or age or relationship.”

 “I know,” Loras mumbled, pouting a bit. He didn’t want to talk about this. But Renly kept going.

 “I mean, I miss my old uncle more than I miss my parents.  I don’t think I can actually miss my parents, really. Is it possible to miss something you’ve never had?”

 Loras paused his train of thought, brows furrowed as he thought about the question. Could you miss something you’ve never had? Was that a possibility? “Maybe you could miss the idea of it… or feel as if you missed out on it all.”

 “I’ve never felt that way, though.  I mean, I’ve been so long without any sort of constant companionship, I never thought I’d miss someone again,” Renly explained, his hand tightening around Loras’ shoulder, squeezing a bit as he spoke about his past. Just a brief glimpse—a glimmer on the horizon that would soon be swallowed up the closer Loras tread.

 “Do you miss your brothers?”

 That was the wrong question to ask. Renly’s hand dropped from around Loras’ shoulder, and his gaze hardened as he looked up the trail, the corners of his mouth pulling tight. “No.”

 And the glimmer was gone.

 Sighing, Loras fished for a cigarette, trying to dispel the image of the burning barn in his mind as he pulled out a packet of matches to go along with his indulgence. Breathing in the tobacco, he took a long drag and passed it to Renly, Renly taking it in silence. Loras should have known that asking about Renly’s brothers would get him silence and a sullen, downtrodden partner. The only thing Loras knew about Renly’s brothers were that they were older and named Robert and Stannis. As to their whereabouts and their past, Loras knew nothing. He didn’t even know if they were still alive.

 “I see tracks.”

 Kicking a stone out of the way, Loras paused and stared down one of the valleys. Cracked and eroded with hoodoos all along the base, the valley looked as if it’d break your neck during a rainstorm, but just break your ankle on a sunny day. There were brush and cacti laying in the pits, and Loras knew there were also rattlesnakes and scorpions and other poisonous creatures down there as well.

 So of course this was why there just had to be horse shoe prints down one of the slopes leading into the dry, old gorge.

 “Of course Ricochet would go down there and try and break his neck. Of course…” Loras mumbled, taking back the offered cigarette.

 “I never said my horse made good decisions,” said Renly.

 “Yeah, but chances are he made a pretty bad one this time. Look at all the cracks and holes down there. Even I’m nervous to go down there.”

 Renly grinned, the good humour coming back as talk of his brothers went away. “My Little Rose all nervous? Why, I guess there is a first for everything.”

 “I’m nervous sometimes,” he huffed, denying Renly the rest of the cigarette. “Why do you think I shake whenever we try new things together when having sex?”

 “That’s why you’re shaking? You’re nervous?”

 Loras rolled his eyes, refusing to reply. Instead he began to walk down the slope, taking his time, attention mostly fixed on the tips of his boots and where he was walking. He could hear Renly coming down behind him, not as carefully as Loras if his swears and the scrape of boots against dirt were anything to go by. They followed the horse tracks through the valley, following the steps almost exactly, Ricochet having found the best places to traverse without getting hurt.

 But each step they took gave Loras a little more hope and excitement. Maybe if they found Ricochet he could find a bit of forgiveness and stop mentally berating himself for what had happened. He couldn’t change what had taken place, but maybe he could make it a bit better. And finding Ricochet would help with the healing process—or so he told himself as they almost knocked over an eroded hoodoo.

 Eventually Loras spotted something standing in the middle of the valley—a large white and black spotted bum.

 “I see him,” he said, speeding up a bit, the terrain evening out enough so they didn’t have to second guess each step. He really had no idea how Ricochet, a horse with knobby knees and a strange sense of reality, had managed to navigate the valley, but he’d done it with no perceived injuries. Perhaps he was some sort of magical creature from a far off land… or he was just a badly bred horse that had been indulged by Renly for too long.

 As soon as they neared Ricochet lazily lifted his head and shifted to the side, eying the two of them warily before his head fell downward once more so he could continue to doze in the late morning sun. The sight of the ugly beast made Loras’ heart soar, and he couldn’t help himself, arms wrapping around his neck to hug him, fingers tangling in his coarse mane. He smelled like horse and hay and a bit of that musty smell of dirt. He smelled familiar.

 “Looks like I was right,” Renly said, coming up behind. Loras didn’t pull away, and continued to hold on to Ricochet. He had a tangible success in his arms right then—something that hadn’t been damaged in the fallout of his idiotic duel.

 “You were right,” he mumbled, eyes squeeze shut as he tried not to think about Daisy and how he used to hug her like this. Now was not the time to be upset.

 “You alright, Little Rose?” Renly’s voice drifted closer and Loras cracked an eye open to see Renly standing right beside him, attention fixed on Ricochet’s bottom lip, tugging it gently.

 “I’m fine… happy to see him.”

 “I can see that,” Renly said, chuckling. There was silence again, the only sound the swish of Ricochet’s tail, back and forth, back and forth and back and forth. Loras regarded Renly carefully, half of his face still pressed against the dark coat across Ricochet’s neck. Renly seemed to be mulling something over, attention fixed on nothing, bottom lip slipping between his teeth. “You should have him.”

 Loras paused, brow furrowing. “What?” _Is he giving me Ricochet?_

 “You should have him, Loras. You’ve got a bond with him already, and you get attached to horses quickly. I’ll find myself another horse and you can take him.” Renly smiled and patted Loras’ shoulder.

 Loras didn’t know how to feel, honestly. At first he wanted to agree—the thought of having a horse he already knew and cherished was almost a dream come true. And that it came from Renly was even more of a treat; it meant so much more coming from him than it wold from anyone else. But the elation was quickly replaced by panic. He’d grown too attached to Daisy and now he was paying a price for that attachment, the ache coming back even more intense than he thought possible.

 Pulling away, Loras shook his head, throat tight and eyes burning a bit. “No, I can’t,” he said. “I don’t want to get attached again.”

 Renly lost his smile, and a spark of intensity flickered in his eyes, making Loras almost shrink back from it. “No, Loras—don’t you say that.” Stepping forward, he grabbed Loras’ shoulders and squeezed down. “You need that attachment, Loras. If gives you a… a life. A vibrancy. The bitterness that has invaded my life hasn’t reached you yet, and I don’t want it to ever reach you. Growing a bond is important—it’s a… a fantastic thing. It makes it so you’ll never be lonely.”

 Loras knew he was speaking from experience, the intensity of it all grabbing his attention and making him listen to Renly as he opened up to him in a strange way. He didn’t know what to say though, and simply stood his ground, trying not to wince as Renly squeezed down harder.

 “The only person I cherish is you, Loras. And I don’t want me to be the only thing you cherish.”

 The intensity was replaced by vulnerability in an instant, and Loras found himself going in for a kiss, pushing his hat off so he could duck down under the brim of Renly’s to capture his lips between his own. Anytime Renly made any sort of emotional derailment from his past, Loras could feel a very real twinge in his chest combined with a longing—a longing to make it all better, even though he didn’t know how to. How could someone just make up or even erase years upon years of emotional and physical scarring?

 The kiss did not last long, but when they parted they stayed close, their noses brushing and breath mingling. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll take him… thank you, Renly.”

“You’re welcome…  I know you’ll treat him well,” Renly replied, before kissing him again. 

XX

 They’d been arguing for a while.

 Sitting outside the Inn, staring at a painted horse Renly had “borrowed” from a farm down the way, Loras listened to the ensuing argument inside, Greyjoy’s voice tumbling over Renly’s own, taking control of the quarrel once more. Loras tried not to listen to what it was about, not really caring about it, but he couldn’t help but pick up bits here and there as they grew louder and louder.

 Greyjoy wanted to go after the Bolton gang while he and Renly went up North. Renly wanted Greyjoy to stay as far away from them as possible—a fair assessment, one Loras wished he’d listened to when he’d been warned weeks ago. But Greyjoy seemed intent on going after them, for reasons unknown to Loras. He hadn’t lost his horse in the fire and he wasn’t the one being targeted. It was Loras and Renly that the Boltons wanted—not Greyjoy, who they probably didn’t even know of.

 But perhaps that was it—maybe the fact that no one knew Greyjoy was what had finally eaten away at him. What had made him fool enough to try and go after a gang that had clearly shown its brutality and willingness to go that extra horrific mile. If Greyjoy killed one of them, maybe he’d get a name like all the rest had. Maybe he’d be someone…

 Sighing, Loras ran a hand over his face, the sun getting lower and lower in the sky, telling him just how much time they’d wasted. They were supposed to leave Mexico today—he and Renly were supposed to be going North. _Finally_. Instead Loras was sitting on the porch, watching the world go by while Greyjoy threw a hissy-fit that would rival the ones his sister would throw when she was a child. And unfortunately for Loras, the world that was going by was very boring, indeed. Chickens, a few villagers, more chickens, the occasional horse and rider, maybe a prostitute with her companion for the night… chickens again.

 Standing, he stretched his arms above his head just as what sounded like a table being flipped resounded in the inn, Renly’s voice taking control. Approaching Ricochet, Loras rested his hand on his saddle, the rose embroidery on his tack a strange thing to see on the dark coat. He was glad he’d managed to save his saddle, having put it in his room the night after he’d spent it sleeping in the brothel. He was paranoid someone would take it and it appeared as if his paranoia had actually rewarded him this time. It was strange enough riding on top of Ricochet, with his different gate and slow manner, so to add a new saddle and reins would have been a challenge, even for Loras who had become quiet adaptable over the last year.

 Renly’s new horse (which was still nameless), was a young paint stallion, brown and white its main colours. It was a pretty horse, but wary of the two of them still, and even more wary of Ricochet. Loras didn’t blame the animal. After all, Renly had “borrowed” the horse by going to the farm unannounced in the middle of the night, taking the animal without warning or much of an introduction.

 The conversation inside the inn started to go quiet as Loras rubbed the soft, velvet noses of both the horses, and it wasn’t too much longer before Renly was coming out of the place, Greyjoy following behind, sullen but no longer red in the face.

 “Right, Loras—we’re out of here,” Renly said, grinning as he passed him, patting him on his shoulder, seemingly unfazed by the argument.

 Loras nodded and untied the reins from the hitching post, attention half fixed on Greyjoy as he stood to the side, smoke dangling from his lips, hands stuffed in his pockets. Sighing, Loras fiddled with the reins, trying to decide if he should say anything to him; maybe a goodbye or perhaps a thank you for stopping him from going into the burning barn. It was unlikely that he and Renly would return to the south for years…

 “Thank you,” he said, almost forcing the words out. Greyjoy didn’t think the thanks was for him, his attention fixed on the horizon. Loras spoke again. “Greyjoy—thank you.”

 Greyjoy slowly turned to look at Loras, a brow raised as he plucked his cigarette out of his mouth. “For what?”

 “For stopping me from running into that burning barn… and for keeping me in check, even when I hit you.”

 Greyjoy cracked a lazy grin then and shrugged. “No problem. I knew if you went in there you’d die, and Baratheon would never let me hear the end of it.”

 Snorting, Loras nodded and turned around, realizing that was the best acceptance he’d get. Hoping up on Ricochet, he shifted around a bit, trying to get comfortable on the slightly larger horse while Renly pulled his horse up alongside Greyjoy.

 “Remember, you promised—“

 “That I wouldn’t go after the Bolton gang—yeah, yeah, I know... and I won’t.”

  Loras stayed off to the side, watching as they shook hands, a certain melancholy surrounding them as they parted ways. Loras didn’t know why, but for some reason he didn’t trust Greyjoy when he said he wasn’t going to go after them, and something told Loras that Renly didn’t believe him, either.

 “See you around,” Renly said, tipping his hat before kicking his stallion forward, Loras following suit, nodding at Greyjoy in passing.

 “So, up North, right?” Loras asked as they exited the town.

 “Up North and to the wilds beyond. You ready for this, Loras?”

 Loras smirked. “Well, if I were traveling with an expert who relied on his skill rather than luck, I’d say I was ready. But I’ve learned that with you, I shouldn’t expect anything, and that being ready for something can only rightly be felt when you are _in_ that moment. There is no planning with you…”

 “So you’re not ready?”

 “Nope… and I love it.”  


	23. Winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own them
> 
> Warning: MalexMale sex
> 
> Authors Note: Quick chapter about winter and then we continue on north!

 It was the chill that Loras noticed first as they made their way north.

 It started early in the evening as soon as the sun began to set. First the gentle breeze became bitter, nipping at your nose and your fingers tips, hitting your back and making your shoulders ache. Next the air would get cold, but gradually. It’d slowly work into you; slithering along your limbs and seep deep into your bones, making you shudder and shake anytime the wind blew in. Finally, when the sun had set and the wind had stopped, everything became so still and quiet that it was eerie almost. The tall trees would wrap themselves around you, blocking out any sight but the trunk before you and the little peak of the dark blue sky up above, stars occasionally showing and constellations sporadically distinguishable. Everything became disconcertingly still and quiet, and yet you knew you weren’t alone—you were never alone. Things lurked in the woods, hiding between the trees as you made your camp, nothing safe outside the warming, bright light of the meager fire you’d made.

 You loathed walking away from the fire, not because of the physical cold but the emotional one. The distance you felt as you stood in the woods all alone; the disconnect that occurred when you were reminded just how much of a foreigner you were in a land that was ruled by beats and phantoms, ghosts and monsters.

 Renly tried to reassure him that there were no ghouls in the woods and that they were still far away from any areas that had big predators, but that did little to ease Loras’ fears as they sat around their little cook fire, his back constantly shivering more from the paranoia of having his back exposed than the cold that stayed from sunset well into the early morning light.

 The second change Loras noted was a very visible and physical one—the leaves.

 They’ve been traveling for a month or so, making their way through lands Loras had never seen but only dreamed of, when the chill set in right along with the changing of the leaves on the trees. At first it wasn’t too noticeable—just a few yellow leaves here and there mixed in with the dark green foliage above. But as the days went by the yellow became robust and other colours were added in, such as oranges and browns, rich and full as they made the trees look like they were on fire. But soon even those colours started to wane and the leaves began to fall, almost like rain as they pattered down on to the forest floor.

 Renly said that as soon as the trees were bare and the frost began to set in they would have to stop for a while-- find a small shelter and stay there for the winter. He also made mention about how they’d been fools to leave for the north at the end of summer and start of fall. But the prospect of snow, even if it did hamper their travels, made Loras excited. He’d never seen snow and had always been curious about how it actually felt—how it would feel to hold it in his hands and have it rest in his hair and on his nose, to hear the ‘blanket’ sound as Renly liked to call it, where everything became so quiet as the snow spread itself across the land, muffling every sound and making it seem as if you were somewhere else—somewhere not of this world.

 But before the snow could come work had to be done. Renly knew of a small hut a few days travel from where they were—one he hoped would not be occupied by other travelers also stopping for the winter. Loras was still a bit curious as to why they had to stop for so long, but Renly assured him it was needed, the winters harsh, even if they weren’t in up in the mountains yet. Loras didn’t want to argue, knowing his ignorance despite hating to admit it. He was a southern boy, born and bred. Ask him about the prairies he grew up on or how to stave off dehydration and he’d know it all. But ask him about how to keep warm in the snow and how to prevent frostbite… well, he left that to Renly.

 Renly seemed a bit tense the further they got, but he relaxed as soon as they found the cabin. It must have represented a good stopping point for Renly; a place where he didn’t have to travel any further and face his past, whatever his past may be. He had more time to come to terms with the fact that he was going home-- even if he didn’t like to call it that. Home was where his heart was, he liked to say, and Loras liked to think maybe he was Renly’s home now.

 The hut was unoccupied when they found it, although it was falling apart. They set to work fixing it up, Loras’ feet stomping over the dead leaves as the still present ones on the trees covered them in warm light as the sun shone through. Kicking foliage aside and stepping on crunchy piles, Loras was sent to find some moss to push into the cracks of the logs to act as a buffer from the winds of winter. But despite beginning with a mission in mind Loras found himself wandering through the woods, looking at the beauty around him rather than for moss on the sides of trees.

 He’d never really been in a place like this, where colours seemed to come alive and sing along with the few birds that had yet to go south for the winter. Everything felt so much more animated than it did in the South, the land down there old and cracked, marred by centuries of use and warfare. Up north, even though they were still rather southern, things seemed alive and vibrant. There was an energy that Loras soaked in, his face to the sky to let the sun shine down on him through the cracks in the canopy while he breathed in the scent of dirt and life.

 Loras embraced his new setting, coming to terms with the changes like he did with most things in life now. Having been on the move for so long, it was hard to unsettle Loras, his frame of mind more stable and the ease at which he could adapt was fast and painless. Much of that had to do with the Renly…

XX

 “So are you enjoying yourself yet?”

 Glancing up from the pile of wood he was creating against the side of the little cabin, Loras admired Renly for a moment, his upper half bare, some sweat sliding down his chest as he chopped wood. He was told they had to make a fair stock-pile before the snow began to fall, neither really wanting to spend too much time outside once winter hit—or so Renly had said. By now all the leaves had fallen and the cabin had been fixed while the chill began to settle in, no longer disappearing even when the sun had risen. But still Renly was shirtless, the work from the wood enough to make him sweat, allowing Loras time to admire his form—and what a form it was.

 “I suppose so,” he drawled out, returning to the pile Renly had made. Picking up the pieces while Renly took a bit of a break, he stacked them as best he could in his arms, watching Renly out of the corner of his eye as he wiped sweat from his brow. “Are you?”

 “Not really. I knew there was a reason I left the north; it’s too much work. Back south when the winter comes it just gets a bit colder at night, but there is no need to stockpile up on wood.”

 Returning to the pile by the house Loras nodded, stacking the rest of the wood. “Still, it’s prettier up here.”

 “You always say that—” He slammed the axe into the wood, “—but I don’t see it—” Another hit, “I actually like the desert.” The axe went all the way through, the wood snapping in half to fall on to the ground. “I mean,” Renly continued, picking one of the pieces up to put back on the chopping block, “there is something about the desert that is so… simple and pure.”

 “And barren and dry and dead,” Loras added.

 Renly sent him a look, slammed the axe back down, and chopped the half into a quarter. “Right, I get it, you don’t like the desert. You always have liked flash.”

 “If I didn’t I doubt I’d be with you.”

 Renly grinned then. “You think I’m flashy?”

 “A bit. Sort of like one of those fake guns from the traveling troupe of entertainers that would come round the town when I was a kid. They’d fill the guns with just powder and they’d go off like real guns, only it was all fake. They’d do shows for us—it was really exciting, but in the end it was just a lot of show.”

 Renly lost his grin. “Are you saying I’m without substance?”

 “I’m saying you’re a flashy, shiny gun that can be dangerous when it wants to be, but is mostly harmless.” He winked and went back to stacking the wood, ignoring Renly’s grumblings.

 Loras was looking forward to spending a few months with only Renly for company (and the occasional times they visited the trading post an hours walk from their place). It’d give him plenty of time to practice the art of back-handed compliments and witty banter. As well as sucking cock, an art Loras was really beginning to enjoy.

XX

 The first time Loras saw snow was through the lone, old window in the cabin while Renly thrust above him.

 Finger’s tangled in long black locks, Loras hugged Renly close as they moved together on the old wooden bed, not much padding underneath them save for their sleeping roles and a few blankets they’d bought. A fire burned in the small cook stove at the other end of the tiny cabin, warming them further, their bodies covered in sweat and their limbs shaking with desire. Loras had his eyes closed as he spread his legs and took Renly in further, moaning softly as Renly’s cock brushed his bundle of nerves. The two having started penetrating each other only a month or so ago, but it was quickly becoming a favourite of theirs. It still hurt sometimes, but the oil Renly bought that was normally used for other purposes made it easier. Regardless of the initial pain, however, the ache was always quickly replaced with pleasure, and Loras quickly found he was requesting this form of sex than any other ones, even if it did mean it took more cleaning up afterward.

 But just as he was really getting into it, Renly’s movements speeding up and the heat between them increasing, Loras opened his eyes and stared up out the window, eyes going a bit wide as large fluffy white flakes floated down past the grimy window.

 “Snow.”

 Renly froze, body stilling as he lifted his head, eyes wide and brows furrowed. “Did you just say Snow’s name during sex?”

 Loras ripped his attention away from the window when he realized Renly had stopped moving, body quivering above his own as he was stared at with no amount of shock. “W-what?”

 “You just said Snow,” Renly mumbled, now glaring.

 “N-no, snow! Real snow!” Renly glanced over his shoulder before turning back to Loras, shrugging a bit as he started to move again.

 “It’s just snow.”

  _Just snow? Just snow?_ “I-I’ve never seen snow before,” Loras panted out, gasping as Renly angled his hips and began thrusting faster and faster. Grabbing on to the blankets underneath him, he held on as best he could, arching into Renly’s embrace while the snow continued to fall, Loras attention fixated on the snowflakes as they came down heavier. “I w-want to go outside.”

 “Not now—in a second,” Renly growled out, ducking his head down to bite Loras’ neck, sending little shockwaves through his system.

 “H-Hurry up and get me off, then,” Loras demanded, his hand sliding down between them to fondle himself.

 “J-Just a s-second,” Renly repeated against his neck. Lifting up, Renly grasped Loras’ hips and held on to him as he humped him, Loras’ toes curling, his attention finally going to the sight before him, Renly’s long limbs and tight muscles covered in shadows and light from the candle burning on the table and the grill on the front of the stove. Locking eyes, they both broke out into slightly feral grins, each trying to get the other to come first.

 Loras lost, his body shaking first as he finally released, legs hooked around Renly as he followed almost immediately after. Collapsing on top of Loras as they rode out the sensation, they hugged each other close, Loras panting against Renly’s ear, fingers tangled in dark locks. As soon as the pleasure was done and the glow had set in, Loras lay limp on the bed, a bit distracted by Renly lifted his head to kiss him slowly, the two lost in each other.

 That was until Loras saw the snow again. Shoving Renly off of him, Loras hopped up and began to dress quickly. “I’m going outside,” he said as Renly rolled himself up in the blankets on the bed, glaring at Loras.

 “Oh, I see how it is. You’ve found a new mistress to go to,” Renly teased, toes peeking out at the end of the blanket.

 “You should come with me,” he said, ignoring Renly’s comment. “It’ll be fun.”

 “I’ve seen snow before,” he yawned.

 “So? I haven’t—let’s enjoy it together.”

 Renly made a sound followed by a mumbled ‘in a minute’. Not waiting to see if Renly was actually going to get up or not, Loras tossed his jacket on left the small cabin. Stepping out on to the porch, Loras took a minute to let his eyes adjust to the darkness, the chill from the air making him shake more as it hit his heated skin. Finally, when he could see what was before him, he stepped off of the porch and on to the dusty ground in front, feet encountering no snow. Renly told him it took a few hours for it to collect, but it could collect _quickly_.

 But the ground wasn’t what interested him. Craning his neck up, he looked up at the sky, the little flakes of snow falling down all around him. Grinning as a few dropped on to his face and melted almost instantly, he held his hands out to feel more of them as they landed all around. Some of them were larger than others, and softer, too. Fat and looking like cotton, they floated down slower and took longer to melt. Catching one in his hand, he watched as it gradually melted against his pink palm. Light broke out behind him and across the slowly whitening ground, and Loras turned around to see Renly coming out, a lantern in his hand.

 “Having fun?” Renly asked, the door squeaking shut, making the horses nicker under the lean-to.

 “It’s… gorgeous,” he said, grinning brightly as he was pulled in for a kiss. “Is it always this peaceful when it snows?”

 “Not usually. You have yet to see a blizzard.” Squinting up at the sky, Renly winced as a flake dropped right above his eye. “It _is_ beautiful, though, but only because you’re here with me.”

 Loras hummed and went in for another kiss as the flakes collected in Renly’s dark hair, painting his dark locks like that of the night sky with its millions of little stars. “If there is enough snow on the ground when we wake in the morning we should play something. Throw snowballs and make things.”

 Laughing, Renly’s cooling hand cupped Loras’ cheek, pushing back curls, tucking them behind his ear. “Maybe—we have some work to do first but after we can play… God, I feel like I’m with a child.”

 All Loras could do was laugh in return, nuzzling his hand a bit as they were coated in flakes of snow. “I love the snow,” he said eventually, meaning it, but mostly because Renly was there with him.

XX

 Loras hated the snow.

 Where once the little flakes could make him excited and joyful, now they only brought despair and annoyance; where once the cold was only a slight inconvenience and nothing to shy from, now all Loras wanted to do was curl up in a blanket near the cook stove and wait until spring; and where once the slight dampness that would be left in his curls amused him, it now served only to make Loras spend hours trying to untangle the mess that had become his hair. Snow made his boots wet and his toes cold, it made his fingers go numb and his nose red and sore. The horses were looked at with envy, their winter coats keeping them warm as they lounged under the lean-to or occasionally wandered the woods, _frolicking_ without a care for the cold. Loras spent most of his days sitting on the bed, staring out the window and wishing it would all just go away.

 Even Renly was starting to annoy Loras, his continual presence a hindrance to his moping. Sometimes Loras didn’t even want to climb in bed with Renly knowing he’d just try and cheer him up with funny stories or kisses. Loras was supposed to loath all aspects of the winter— _all_ aspects. But Renly was the one continual source of happiness, even if he did cause Loras the occasional angry fit when he did something that grated on his nerves.

 The months grew longer while the days grew shorter, the sun only appearing for brief minutes before it seemed to go back down over the horizon, not daring to brave the cold, either. A few times Loras actually prayed to God for a short winter, but he wasn’t sure any reprieve God could give him would be good enough.

 In order to pass the time they played numerous card games, Renly attempting to teach Loras the art of the poker face (an art Loras was no good at, apparently), or knife games, such as five finger filet (a success, considering no fingers were lost). Loras even resorted to thinking back to the stories his brother Willas had written, and tried to tell them to Renly as they lay on their bed and stared up at the old ceiling that was letting all the heat out.

 It took forever until the snow began to melt and the sky began to clear, the sun staying out long enough to warm the land. Loras held out little hope the thaw would continue, having been fooled a few times by sunny weather and clearing trails, but as the days became longer and the land began to grow muddy, Loras knew they were free. Not wanting to spend another night in the cabin they left as soon as they could, packing up their shaggy horses and wandering down the slightly soggy trails toward the main path that would lead them further up.

 “Now do you see why I left the north?” Renly asked as they rode up the trail at a slow, meandering pace.

 Loras wished he had a snowball to throw at his smug face.


	24. Beauty with a Shotgun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own them
> 
> Warning: Gun violence
> 
> Authors note: Oh hey, looks who shows up... finally.

 “Don’t you wish you had a tail sometimes?”

 Renly quirked a brow and leaned back on his saddle. “Please explain, oh Little Rose, why you would want a tail.”

  “To shoo flies away,” Loras replied, batting a mosquito away from his face, followed by a fly that was buzzing near his ear.

 “Well your hand seems to be doing a good job of that.”

 Rolling his eyes, Loras watched Renly’s horse’s tail lazily flick back and forth as they trundled down an old trail through tall grass and birch trees. “It takes much more energy to bat a fly away with my hand than a tail. The tail just keeps going, you see—it’s an extension of the horse.”

 “Your hand is an extension of you.”

  “You know what I mean! That is all the tail is for so it doesn’t get tired. My hand is getting tired from all these flies,” Loras complained. Sighing, he swatted away another bug, pouting as they continued to buzz around.

 He thought he’d go mad with the sheer number of bugs that seemed to have come out of hiding as the air began to warm. Things were fine for the first week of travel with most everything still resting from the long winter, but as soon as the birds came the bugs came as well. Out of the puddles that formed from the melting snow, flies, mosquitoes, horseflies and other such pests all started to appear. They weren’t too bad at first, but by the third night of lying away and swatting away bugs, Loras thought he was going to lose it.

 Renly promised him things would get better but Loras didn’t believe him. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t used to bugs out on the ranch, it was that he wasn’t used to the _numbers_ of them as they swirled about in the ponds and above puddles, over the paths and under the trees. Sometimes it looked like there was just a low hovering black cloud in the middle of the path, but as they neared it turned into a swarm of flying, buzzing, biting little insects. Loras was really beginning to hate the north.

 “I know we’re in lake territory—all the bugs are hatching right now. Give it another few days and it won’t be as bad once the birds get to work on the feast before them. If you’d like we can stop at the next creek we find and take a dip—cool off and get away from the bugs in the air.”

 The suggestion sounded like a good one, and Loras nodded, a small smile replacing the pout. A dip in a cool stream sounded like a mighty fine idea, and suddenly the bugs became a little less annoying with the knowledge they’d get to clean off and rinse their dirty clothes that had been packed away in their saddlebags.

 They continued along the shaded trail for some time, Renly telling Loras a story about how he bested Greyjoy at poker to win his fabled spyglass. It wasn’t until they’d come out of the clearing and ventured out into the hilly prairies that Loras saw something of any interest. Peering out across the way, he was the first to notice the little trail of smoke rising from behind one of the hills. Turning from light grey to a dark black plume that spread quickly, Loras reined Ricochet in, eyes wide as the smoke continued to trail upward, darker and darker as each second past.

 “What is—” Renly stopped as he too saw the smoke, pulling his horse up beside Loras’ as they watched. “What do you think it is?” he asked after a time, Loras silent as he just stared.

 “Fire… a farm, maybe a barn…” Loras finally whispered, his eyes wide with shock. His stomach began to hurt in that instant, hands tightening down on the reins as he squeezed down harder and harder, bruising his leather gloves. Flashes of tall flames eating away at tender wood and the screams of horses and people all around him ripped through his mind. He physically tried to dispel the images by shaking his head, tearing his gaze from the smoke, eyes squeezed shut as he attempted to block out the feeling of flames against his face and the grit under his fingernails from clawing the ground beside his fallen companion. But the crackle of wood and the stench of burning flesh refused to leave, his mind spinning as the memories returned after lying dormant for the winter months. For a second Loras thought he was back in that moment—that everything that had happened afterward was just a figment of his guilt ridden imagination. He felt as if he couldn’t escape, his breathing becoming laboured as he tried his hardest to break free from what he knew was not a reality—not anymore.

 But it was so _hard_. The smells and the sights just kept coming, and no matter how he tried to push it away he wasn’t strong enough; wasn’t sane enough; wasn’t’ free enough to—

 “We should keep going…” Renly’s voice broke Loras from his waking nightmare. Eyes opening, Loras sat up on his saddle having leaned to the side, almost falling off as his body went weak from the memories. Tearing his gaze away from the stones that seemed to swim before him, he looked up at Renly, concern across his features—concern for _him_ , not for the fire across the way.

 _He doesn’t care about anything but me, does he?_ Loras thought, the notion both terrifying and exciting. _I’m all he’s got… and right now, he’s all I have._ The realization that Renly was here with him calmed Loras for the moment, however, his grip on the reins relaxing, his stomach no longer tensing making him feel ill. Taking a deep breath, he reached for his water canteen and took along drink from it, his hand shaking as the metal of the bottle pressed against his hot lips. Putting the bottle back on the side of his saddle with a steadier hand, he sighed, returning his attention to the bloom of smoke once more, this time with clear eyes. “We should see what is going on—we can’t just walk past after seeing this.”

 Renly made a sound. “Loras, last time you didn’t keep walking--”

 “I know,” Loras snapped, head whipping around to glare at Renly. Immediately his expression softened, although not by much. He hated being reminded of his mistakes, least alone by the one man whose opinion actually meant something to him. “I know, Renly, but we can’t…”

 Renly let out a frustrated growl, cursing a god he didn’t believe in, before kicking his horse into a trot. “Your need to be the knight in shining armour will get us killed one day, Little Rose,” he called over his shoulder.

 They rode quickly toward the smoke, taking the smaller of the trails as they forked off in opposite directions. Loras didn’t look back as they pounded down the trail, the thunder of the horses’ hooves matching Loras’ heartbeat as they broke over the crest of the hill. That was when they heard the crack of gunpowder and the screams of men and women alike.

 The first thing Loras saw was one of the barns was on fire, but thankfully the horses were out, running around in the panic as people hid in all directions, guns being fired at people. Two men were on horses, running back and forth through the farm, firing their guns up in the air while others—two or maybe three— shot at the men hiding behind tipped over crates and wagons. Three were pilfering things in the mayhem, screams of _joy_ coming from some of their mouths. It was a raid by a gang—a gang that had no morals, it seemed. While Renly and Loras stole they never targeted farms and families, knowing just how difficult it was to make a life out here. But there were others—the majority, unfortunately—who did not mind taking from the weak and the helpless; the easy prey.

 Without prompting one another Renly and Loras shot off down the hill toward the ranch, Loras’ hand reaching back to grab his rifle, flipping it over his shoulder and holding it tight in his grasp, taking aim at one of the men riding back, gun in the air and a grin on his face. He lost the grin as soon as the bullet spray hit his chest. Falling off of his horse, his foot got caught in the stirrup, limp body dragging behind the beast as it took off into the field. Loras didn’t take his time gloating over the man’s demise, his attention fixated on the next one—a man bending over to pluck someone’s fallen hat off the ground. He shot him in the back.

 That was the last easy shot, the other members of the gang recognizing others had come to join in on defending the farm. Sliding off of Ricochet, Loras rolled behind one of the overturned wagons, pressing close to an old man with a rusty rifle, a child, and two girls no longer than fifteen. He didn’t listen as the old man questioned him, hollering about this and that, fear and curiosity mixed in his voice. He shut up as soon as Loras took aim at one of the outlaws, realizing then that Loras wasn’t part of their gang.

 He could hear Renly shouting off to the side, his rambunctious nature taking over as he shot at a few men, hiding behind what appeared to be an outhouse. Loras could see him grinning, and Loras couldn’t help but smile a bit as well, the panic he felt when he saw the smoke gone as the horses milled about far out in the field, away from the fight down by the little houses and shops that made the ranch. He’d forgotten what it was like to be in a firefight. But their element of surprise was finished, the other men hiding as well, realizing that there were more than just old men, a few young men Loras’ age, and some women left to fight.

 Scooting along the wagon, he nodded at one of the girls as she shrunk back a bit, pressing against the old man as everyone stayed silent, even the child who was no longer wailing. Peeking around the corner he looked for signs of the other men, gaze flicking to Renly. He managed to catch his eye, and Renly held up two fingers before pointing at the barn at the end of the little trail on the opposite end of the ranch from the burning one.

 Nodding, Loras peered at the barn, trying to see the two men Renly had said were inside. He could hear them yelling—obscenities mostly breaking through, a few curses and threats—but they didn’t come out of hiding, even when Renly called them ‘Breast-feeding babes who hide behind their mother’s skirts’ and ‘Son of a bitch whoresons’. Loras only had a few rifle bullets left in his belt and loathed to waist them on the wood of the barn, but as the stalemate lasted longer, Loras began to grow antsy, wanting to just take them out. But Renly’s eyes were trained on him, knowing just how reckless he could get during times of quiet. He kept sending Loras warnings, making him pause as he was about to dash across the way to join him at the outhouse, hoping the men would come out and fire at him as he ran. But just as he was about to throw all common sense out the door and run as fast as he could toward Renly, there was the sound of a shotgun blast from inside the barn, followed by a roar of agony and another blast.

 And then silence.

 Quirking a brow, Loras stared across at Renly, watching him as Renly watched the barn, bright blue eyes narrowed, attention fixed on the door. The look of surprise on Renly’s face as the barn doors opened was enough to make Loras _laugh_. Mouth falling slack and eyes widening, Renly just stared as Loras tried to stifle his amusement, gloved hand going to cover his mouth. But he too lost smile as he turned to look at the person standing outside the building, utter shock at the site before him enough to silence any laughter.

 Standing in front of the barn doors, shotgun in hand and holding it with strength and determination was a girl. Or a woman, more like. A giant woman—one of the largest Loras had ever seen. Towering in the doorway, her straw coloured hair glimmered under the light of the sun while her large fingers wrapped tight around the barrel of the shotgun, finger still hovering over the trigger. Loras wasn’t sure who she was, where she’d come from, or if she was an ally, but he was sure that she’d just killed two men with that gun of hers, and to break out into the open unannounced would surely be foolish.

 Which was why Renly was coming out of his hiding spot, hands up in the air as others from the ranch crawled out of the woodwork. Loras wasn’t sure he wanted to expose himself to the large woman with an equally large gun, but hiding while everyone else came out was no good, either. Stuffing his rifle over his shoulder into its holster, Loras stood slowly as well, coming out with the two girls, the old man and the child.

 “Brienne!” One of the older men called from across the way. The girl’s head snapped away from Renly in that instance, the shotgun in her grip loosening as she saw the old man approach. Shuffling up to Renly, Loras kept his hands out and to the side, able to reach for his gun if need be. But the girl—Brienne—was no longer paying attention to them, her arms wrapped around the man who must have been her father.

 “She’s huge…” Loras whispered, everyone else still staring at the unknown men who had come to their rescue. They probably didn’t know if they were going to rob them blind, too, having only come in to take all the spoils for themselves.

 “She also knows how to wield a shotgun.” Renly sounded impressed. A surge of jealousy flickered inside Loras, remembering how Renly had sounded the same way when he’d first seen Loras shoot. It wasn’t hard to fire a _shotgun_ and kill someone with it—there was nothing to be impressed by.

 Brienne and her father were suddenly looking at them, Renly pulling away from Loras to saunter over, his hand extended outward for a shake. Loras continued to hang back, glaring as they approached the girl. She was homely—Loras could see this as they drew closer. Strong of jaw and with chapped, full lips, she was incredibly plain, freckles across her wide nose and rosy pink cheeks. Her hair was short and the colour of straw. It looked like it would crack like straw, too.

 And she was tall. As they stopped in front of her, her gun still in her grasp as she lingered behind her father, she towered over everyone else, Loras having to look up slightly. It was unnerving—he didn’t like looking _up_ at people.

 “Howdy, I’m Baratheon and this is my partner Tyrell,” Renly said, seemingly not unnerved by the giant woman wielding the shotgun with a certain amount of intensity. But her eyes—her large blue eyes—were locked on Renly and Renly alone, a softness coming to her features as she gazed at him. It made Loras want to… to… do _something_ as he stood behind Renly, completely silent as Renly carried the conversation. Brienne’s father shook Renly’s hand, and moved to shake Loras’ as well, an appreciative smile on his lips although he was still seemed wary around the two of them, obviously uncertain of them. _Good_. “We saw the fire and decided to come see what was going on,” Renly continued, pointing toward the barn that had almost completely burned down. 

 Loras refused to look at it.

“We are grateful you stopped by. Our boys tried but… but they came quickly and we hid. It’s all we could do with after being so surprised,” the man said, ignoring one of the young men as he clutched a rag close to his bleeding arm, red liquid seeping through the makeshift bandage he’d constructed. But Loras saw no casualties on the side of the ranch, everyone huddled close but not _grieving_. The more time Loras had to look around, the more he realized this ranch was large—larger than most—made up of a collection of families that worked the land and bred the horses and cattle. It was like a small town… which was why Loras was curious as to why they were so unprepared for an attack.

 “Surely you’ve had this sort of thing happen before,” Loras said, “You operate a large ranch here; you must have had safety measures in place.”

 “We did, until another gang hit just a few weeks ago. It’s been a bad season—early spring always is. Outlaws looking for some easy targets after months of snow and being locked away or stuck in mountain passes. Unfortunately, the winter was a bit longer and… men get restless. We have men here to protect, but they aren’t as prepared as some people.” His eyes roamed over Loras’ ammo belts and polished revolvers.

But Loras wasn’t paying attention to the answer, all of his old courtesies as a fellow ranch hand leaving him as this large woman stared at his partner. Wanting to get away from the smell of burned wood and itching get moving again, Loras was about to say their goodbyes and drag Renly off when the man spoke again.

 “We can’t offer you much for your kindness, but if you’d like to stay the night we can offer you two a place to sleep and some food.”

 “We’d like to, but we have—” Loras began, but was quickly cut off by Renly.

 “Well, we’d be mighty grateful for that—thank you, sir.”

Loras wanted to hit him.

XX

 Loras figured the only reason they were asked to stay was to help clean up.

 The rest of the afternoon was spent tipping wagons back over and dragging off dead bodies—all of them from the gang and not the ranch, thankfully. The barn was left to smoulder and anytime Loras walked past it he turned away, attention fixated on something in the distance or his hands or the tips of his boots. Not many of the people were eager to speak to Renly or Loras, still wary due to their appearances and the way they could handle guns, but they weren’t rude, either. They smiled at them and offered them water, and the women had even taken the clothes that needed washing and washed them for them, figuring that they could at least provide them with something clean to wear after working under the sun all day.

 But there was one girl who did not help with the washing.

 Brienne stayed out with all the other men assisting with the cleanup. No one seemed phased neither by her strength nor by the ease at which she did such physically demanding work, but Loras wasn’t really paying attention to others’ reactions to her. He was too caught up in how she seemed to follow Renly around, the two talking freely with one another, Renly making her laugh more than he’d ever seen a person laugh. She was smiling around him as they worked—always smiling.

 Loras was only scowling.

 Renly had come to him a few times, their hands lingering a little longer over their shared water canteen. Renly was enjoying the work, having fun talking with anyone who would talk to him about whatever. He was sharing the types of stories he’d first told Loras—the safe stories. The ones that made you think he wasn’t such a bad man after all. But the realization that Renly was playing the same games with the ranch peoples as he had with Loras when they first met made him even more annoyed.

 A few people tried to talk to Loras but Loras kept staring over their shoulders, attention fixated on Renly and Brienne as they picked up a watering trough and tipped it right-side up, or as they wrangled the stray horses out in the field, laughing and chatting. Eventually people just gave up on talking to him, his distraction too much to deal with.

 His mother would have been appalled at his rudeness.

 Finally, when the sun had set the work was done. The air began to cool quickly and a fire was made in the center of the ranch, chairs and benches surrounding it so people could huddle around the warmth. The atmosphere had become one of thankfulness and happiness, everyone relaxing as they realized they’d all survived another day. The barn could be rebuilt and the arm that had been shot would heal. Things would be okay.

 Sitting beside Renly around the fire, Loras pressed against his side as much as he dared, not wanting to give their close relationship away but also needing to be near Renly as much as possible. Brienne was sitting with her father across the way but she kept smiling at Renly, her full lips pulled up, bright blue eyes fixated on Renly in a way that spoke of infatuation.

 It reminded Loras a bit of how Sansa would look at him.

 It made him uncomfortable.

 “You alright, Little Rose?” Renly asked as he stopped speaking with the man on his other side. Loras had been listening in—they’d been chatting about wheat. Renly didn’t know anything about growing wheat, but he still managed to carry a conversation about it. Renly could charm anyone. Loras could too—only difference was, Loras saw no reason in further earning these people’s respect. They weren’t going to be spending any more time with these people and Loras didn’t want to waste his time and their time pretending to be _friends_.

 Especially with Brienne.

 “I’m fine,” Loras mumbled, his stomach aching a bit. He wasn’t sure if it was from the food they’d eaten or from Brienne and her continual staring. Taking a sip of the whiskey in his flask, he passed it to Renly, their fingers briefly touching.

 “You don’t seem fine to me.” Renly nudged him gently. Loras nudged back.

 “Just tired. Been a long day and all,” he said. He could feel Renly’s eyes on him but refused to meet his gaze. Instead he fixated on the glowing embers inside the roaring fire.

 Renly sighed beside him and nudged him again. “Come on; let’s go check on our horses.” He stood without waiting for agreement from Loras and excused the both of them from the fire. Sighing, Loras followed, shivering a bit as they left the warmth of the circle and ventured into the cool fields.

 Stepping up on the first rung of the fence that kept the horses in, Renly crossed his arms on the top of the fence, Loras joining him. Having Renly beside was enough to calm Loras and he leaned to the side a bit, knocking their heads together before returning to his safer distance. He knew they were being watched.

 “We’ll leave tomorrow first thing in the morning—before everyone is awake,” Renly said, reaching down to pluck a tall blade of wheat from the ground. Twirling it, he turned to Loras, smiling. “I know you don’t like it here much.”

 Loras nodded. “Thank you. I just… I want to keep moving. I hate staying still, especially after being cooped up in that shack all winter.”

 “Loras, my love, you’ve got to slow down a bit,” Renly said, fondness in his voice. “Just relax and soak in the atmosphere. How often do we find such lovely company, huh? These are good people—sharing a meal with them hasn’t killed you, has it?”

 Loras snorted and ran a hand over his face. Brienne’s expression flashed through his mind—her stupid smile and her homely face and the twinkle in her eye as she looked at Renly. _Renly is my partner and my best friend—my lover, too._ Renly was _his_ , and Loras did not share. While he knew Renly was just being friendly, he hated that Brienne was falling for his charm so quickly and that Renly was letting it happen. They would be leaving soon—very soon. Brienne had no reason to grow attached to him after knowing him for one day. _She should just forget about him._

 _But I know more than anyone how difficult it is to just forget Renly._ Loras remembered the night they first met; how he’d stayed up just thinking about Renly. Thinking about his smile and the touch of their hands, his belt buckle twinkling in the moonlight, and how the embers of his smoke light a small patch of light near his perfect lips. Renly was an entirely different sort of being, someone who dragged you in and didn’t let go. Which was why Loras hated the way Brienne looked at him. He could relate to it too much and it made him feel sick. Renly was _his_. Loras knew Renly would join him in the upper loft of the still standing barn to sleep in the hay. He’d be with Loras all night—where he belonged.

 Still, Loras did not like how impressed Renly seemed to be with Brienne. Apparently she had a good shot—or so she claimed. And apparently she was also good at hunting. All things Loras was good at and all things Renly was always impressed with, to be sure, but Loras thought Renly was just impressed with _him_ and him alone. But now he was talking about how Brienne could shoot this sort of gun and once shot another type of rifle, and how Brienne had even killed a cougar once.

 Loras hadn’t killed a cougar.

 This was all entirely unfair.

 “I think I’m going to go to bed,” Loras said, pulling away from the fence. Renly grasped his arm as he passed, little pressure applied, knowing it only took a single touch to still Loras.

 “I won’t be long, alright? I’ll come up in a bit.”

 Loras nodded and made move to kiss him but the firelight caught his eye, and remembered that others were still watching. Instead he patted Renly’s arm, giving it a quick squeeze. “Right, don’t be too late—you said we’re leaving early.”

XX

 The sun was going to rise in less than an hour when Loras woke for the fifth time that night.

 Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and yawned, shoulders slumped forward as he stared out the open doors at the top of the hayloft, the horizon a touch lighter than the sky up above. Renly’s grip was loose around his waist, and as Loras sat Renly curled in closer, his face pressed against his hip, practically smothering himself using Loras’ belt. Sighing, Loras continued to stare out the door, picking bit of hay out of his hair.

 He’d wake Renly in a moment, and then they could leave. Get away from the ranch and its people—and Brienne.

 Loras sighed again. He’d almost forgotten about Brienne while he’d been sleeping. Well, he would have, had he not dreamed about her stealing Renly away so they could go off and have adventures together. He knew it was ridiculous but that didn’t stop the hurt…

 Nudging Renly gently, he peered down at him in the dark, waiting until he saw the glimmer of his eyes in the dark. “Wake up, Renly…”

 Renly yawned loudly and rolled away from Loras, hair even more tangled than Loras’ as he sat up and rubbed his eyes, leaning a bit on Loras. Looking out the hayloft hatch, he grunted and kissed Loras’ cheek. “Time to go?”

 “You said before anyone was awake…”

 Nodding, Renly patted Loras’ thigh as he passed him on the way to the edge, grabbing his guns, ammo belt and hat before he slid down the ladder. Loras followed suite, putting his ammo belt and hat back on first, followed by his gun holsters, the two walking out to the field to grab their horses as they flicked open buckles and pulled leather tight.

 They got their horses set up swiftly, getting them from the field and taking them to the barn, putting their saddles and bridles on with ease, neither saying anything, silently working so they could leave quickly. Loras was moving a bit faster than Renly and he continually peered across the lane, hoping no one else was awake yet. People were usually up at all hours on ranches such as these but Loras still had a bit of luck saved up, none of the lights in any of the homes flickering on.

 “You ready?” Loras whispered in the darkness while Renly shifted the saddle around, making sure it was on snugly.

 “Yeah, I think I’m good to—”

 Renly almost squealed. Loras could hear the beginnings of the high pitched outburst of air that indicated Renly was very scared and very much ready to make it apparent. Immediately his hand strayed to his side, fingers closing around the handle of his revolver as he turned around, Renly seemingly frozen on the spot as he whipped around to face whatever it was behind him.

 Standing in front of the open barn doors was a massive figure, looming over them in the moonlight. Vaguely human in shape, it appeared bigger and wider than anything Loras had ever seen, his gun rising with an uncharacteristically shaky hand _. A bear—it’s a bear! Renly said there wasn’t supposed to be a bear in these parts—why is there a bear?!_

But just as he was about to pull the trigger, the shape moved further into the barn, arms rising and silhouette narrowing as the light from the moon hugged the sides of the person.

 “Don’t shoot.”

 Immediately Loras’ finger pulled away from the trigger, gun pointing up to the ceiling as he staved off the urge to shoot. When you heard the words ‘don’t shoot’, you didn’t shoot, even if the voice came from someone you really did not like.

 “Brienne?” Renly hissed in the darkness, stepping away from his horse to approach the figure. Brienne shuffled forward further, her features becoming apparent in the darkness as their eyes adjusted. She had a backpack over her shoulders and other bags on her waist—saddle bags. Hence the strange shape she’d taken on as she stood in the doorway.

 “Yes, it’s me,” she said a bit awkwardly, large blue eyes still warily watching Loras’ hand as he continued to hold the gun. Renly shot him a look over his shoulder and Loras rolled his eyes as he stuffed the revolver away. As if he was _actually_ going to shoot her.

  “What are you doing here?” Loras asked, peeved she’d snuck up on them.

 “Are you leaving?” she asked in return, ignoring Loras’ question in favour of paying attention to their saddled horses.

 Renly nodded and Loras could see he was still a bit nervous, his almost shriek still stuck in his throat. “Yeah, we’re off now. Didn’t want to make a scene about leaving so we thought it best to go before you folks were awake…”

 “What are you doing here?” Loras repeated, this time harsher.

 Brienne paused then, the grip she had on the strap of her saddlebag a bit tighter. Jaw shifting forward, she stared down at the ground for a moment, taking a deep breath before she looked back up at the two of them. “Take me with you?”


	25. Similarities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own 'em
> 
> Warning: None
> 
> Authors Note: Sorry for the lateness! I'm thinking of moving updates to either Wednesday or Monday-- any thoughts?

  _Yes_.

 One word was all it took to make Loras want to strangle his partner and his lover.

  _Yes_.

 One word and Loras almost got up on Ricochet and rode off without a glance over his shoulder.

  _Yes_.

 One word and Loras almost let out one of the most barbaric, angry roar in the history of America.

 Staring at the back of Renly’s head as he finished putting up their little canvas tent, Loras fiddled with his skinning knife, eying the long black braid that rested down his back. Keeping his attention trained on the braid, he watched as it swung a bit to the left, then to the right, before landing perfectly down the center as Renly sat back and admired his work, their bed rolls pressed tightly together inside the neatly made tent.

_If he thinks I am so much as hugging him tonight he is sorely mistaken…_

Loras imagined what it would sound like to cut through Renly’s beautiful long black hair. He could hear the knife slice through each and every strand, could feel the tension as the knife went through in his wrist, and could smell the stench of petty victory in his nostrils. How sweet such a success would be. But then Renly was turning around, and Loras slid the blade back in his side holster, having it rest smooth and heavy against his hip as Renly crawled back over to him to sit down beside him on a log.

 “What are you doing?” Renly asked, moving in for a kiss. Loras pulled back just at the last second, head twisting to the side so all Renly kissed was his cheek. But his little turn made it so he was staring directly at the _second_ tent in the camp. A tent that would fit two people; well, two _regular_ sized people.

 “Nothing,” Loras said, ignoring Renly as he tried to get in his field of view, kisses being applied to his neck, jaw and cheek.

 “Mm, you’re upset,” Renly mumbled against Loras’ ear, breath blowing Loras’ curls slightly. Growling, Loras pushed him away, finally turning to look at him.

 “Yes, yes Renly, I am upset,” he hissed out, glaring at him. It was hard, though, when he came in for another kiss. Loras melted under it for a second, but quickly remembered he was upset and certainly not looking for any affection from the very person who had made him so upset. Pushing Renly again he pulled back further, almost falling off the log to get away from his insistent groping.

 Pouting, Renly stayed close to him, practically sitting on his lap as he continued to pester Loras with kisses and puppy-dog eyes. “But _why_ are you upset? You won’t tell me.”

 Loras just glared and tilted his jaw toward the second tent.

 “Brienne?” Renly asked, sounding entirely too shocked. This just made Loras more irritated.

 “Yes, Brienne,” he said, rolling off the log to stand before Renly. Dusting off the bit of bark that clung to his pants he braced his hands on his hips, glaring down at him. “Who else do you think could have made me angry in the last day?”

 “I don’t know! You’re stand-offish to everyone when you first meet them; it’s sort of hard to guess when we meet a bunch of new people at who you’re most pissed off with.”

 “I am not stand-offish,” Loras retorted.

 Renly laughed and shook his head. “You are. You’re polite about it, in that classic upper-class sort of way, but you are completely horrible around new people.”

  _That’s not true_ , Loras thought. But he knew it was. Loras grew up believing a person had to _earn_ his respect before he’d give his in return. Most people he met growing up were of lower class coming to work at _his_ ranch. Therefore they owed him the respect, not the other way around. And it was a hard mentality to shake, Loras continually seeing himself as better and more worthy even though he knew it wasn’t true… although he _was_ better than a lot of people-- not everyone, he supposed, but most people.

 But he wasn’t going to tell Renly he was right. Instead he kicked over a stone and turned around, glaring at the bushes that surrounded their campsite. He could hear the river flowing off in the distance and knew Brienne would be back from washing up anytime. “I can’t believe you let her come…” he finally muttered.

 “She needs our protection to get anywhere.”

 “You know as well as I do that she can protect herself. She killed two men with her shotgun.”

 “She didn’t want to—they threatened her family. I doubt she’d be able to kill again if she were all alone.”

 Sighing, Loras pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t like this…”

 He could hear Renly rise, a twig snapping behind him before strong hands were on his shoulders, massaging them gently. “It’s only for a few weeks… We’re just getting her to the first city we can find. From there she can take a train to wherever she wants to go. Just like with you when I agreed to take you through the desert.”

 “Yeah, and look how that plan worked.” Turning around, Loras pouted a bit, Renly dragging him close. Loras did not resist the tug but he didn’t relax in Renly’s arms, even when strong fingers rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, we did get to a major town and you _were_ going to get on that train. You just fell for me and my irresistible charm. I don’t see the harm in that…”

 “Brienne’s already fallen for your “irresistible charm”, remember? She… dotes on you.” They’d only been traveling for two days with Brienne and already she had managed to replace Loras at Renly’s side, the two chatting as Loras hung back with Ricochet, glowering at everything and anything. _I’m supposed to be the only person who dotes on you…_

“I promise you we will put her on that train and make her go live a good and honest life. Besides, she’s not cut out to be an outlaw. For a start, she’s completely oblivious—she still hasn’t worked out that we’re not the nice travelers we make ourselves out to be. I think she’d have been a bit more hesitant to ride with us had she known we shoot and kill men for a living.”

 “Then maybe we should have told her,” Loras suggested, earning an eye-roll from Renly.

 “Why are you so against her, Little Rose?”

 Loras was about to reply when Renly pulled away, the two left standing awkwardly in the clearing as Brienne appeared. Smiling tightly at her, Loras ran a hand through his hair, noticing how wet Brienne’s still was.

 “Have a good dip in the river?” Renly asked, chipper as usual.

 “Yes, it was nice to bathe,” she replied, clutching her deer hide vest to her chest, the tassels swinging from side to side as she walked to her tent. Renly and Loras both watched as she tossed the vest into the tent, her back to them for a moment, giving Loras time to nod his chin toward the river, a brow quirked.

 Renly nodded and approached Brienne, once again smiling brightly as she turned to look at Renly—not at Loras. “Can you watch the camp for a bit while Tyrell and I go off and bathe? We shouldn’t be too long…”

 “N-No, I don’t mind. It’s still daylight, I doubt there will be much in the woods,” she said, smiling at Renly. Loras hated it when she smiled like that. She looked ridiculous. Like some love-struck fool.

 “Thank you, Brienne.” Renly patted her shoulder and turned around to face Loras, missing the excitement in her gaze as he touched her. Loras didn’t miss it, though.

 Leaving with Renly, Loras trudged down the path toward the river, once again eying Renly’s braid as it swung back and forth across his back. Coming out on to the bank they picked their way carefully along the stones and pebbles that lines the water, stopping at a large rock to strip off. Nothing was said, Loras wanting to forget Renly’s question about why he disliked Brienne so much. There was no logical reason for it—none at all. And yet it was there, this deep rooted… _jealousy_.

 It made Loras feel sick.

 Once they were both nude they held hands as they waded out into one of the pools in the cold creek, making their way to the sun covered pool in the center. The water was cold, but under the sun and next to Renly it became bearable. Where before Loras thought he might have lost his testicles inside his body, he now felt a little more relaxed the longer the water lapped at his limbs. Letting the mud seep through his toes as they stood near the middle of the pool, Loras watched as the water reaching their shoulders, covering his almost completely while it just lined Renly’s collarbone. Immediately Loras was pulled in close, Renly kissing him deeply. For a second he relaxed into the kiss, fingers tugging at the braid he’d wanted to cut moments ago, the two of them starved for intimacy after having to steal kisses only in privacy. When Renly pulled away, however, Loras was again reminded of why they had to be careful about affection.

 “She annoys me,” he blurted out, Renly quirked a brow as he spoke.

 “Brienne annoys you?” he asked, smiling a bit. Loras concentrated on the feel of the mud between his toes to keep himself from shoving Renly under the water. He looked entirely too smug.

 “Yes… she’s not as special as you make her out to be,” he said, shivering as his body got used to the cool river water.

 Renly’s small smile turned into a sly grin, and he nipped at Loras’ bottom lip. “You’re jealous.”

 Loras did shove him this time, and cupped his hands in the pool, pushing up a handful of water to splash Renly. “I am not jealous!”

 Renly let out a howl as the water hit him, but he was soon laughing and coming back to Loras, dragging him into another embrace, hair wet and clinging to the sides of his head, a small strand sticking to his upper lip. “Yes, you are—which completely baffles me because you have no reason to be.”

  _Doesn’t he think I know that?_ “She’s shot a cougar…”

 “Yeah, and you’ve saved my life countless times, and have had more headshots than I can count.”

 “But it’s not a cougar.”

 Sighing, Renly knocked their foreheads together. Avoiding his gaze Loras stared at a water droplet that clung to his cheek right under thick black eyelashes. “I don’t care if you’ve shot a cougar or not. Brienne is a nice girl, but she’s not _you_. Well, not completely like you. Besides, she’s a woman—I don’t like women. Not like how I like you.”

 Loras could feel Renly’s hand stray downward, and he was pulled in closer, Renly’s hand kneading his ass under the water. Shivering and not completely from the cold of the water, Loras finally looked up at Renly, his hazel eyes locking with deep blue swirling with fondness, exasperation, and a bit of lust.

 “What do you mean not _completely_ like me?”

 “Well, you do have similarities—more than you’d admit to, of course…”

 Loras snorted. “No, we are nothing alike.”

 Renly shrugged, and Loras realized his hands were still wandering around Loras’ ass. “Whatever you say, Little Rose… now, how about we get clean?”

 Loras lost any retort he had when Renly’s lips were once again upon his, and all conversations of jealousy and their new traveling companion left in favour of water caresses and warm kisses.

XX

“You’re from the South.”

 Loras lifted his head and stared across the fire at Brienne. She was just staring right back, her large sky blue eyes filled with curiosity and ignorance. He wished Renly hadn’t gone off to piss in the woods, leaving the two of them alone. He didn’t reply to her question, and she continued, obviously thrown off by his silence.

 “I mean, you have an accent, and Renly was saying that you… you met down there. So I just thought,” she said, shrugging a bit, still staring at Loras, their gazes never leaving one another.

 Again Loras was silent, fingers locked together, resting between his knees as he sat on the log. “Yeah, I am from the South,” he finally said.

 She visibly relaxed then, a small smile on her lips, although still tense. “I’d like to see the South… I mean, after I visit further up North. I’ve been stuck in the middle all my life…”

 “Why do you want to leave?” he asked, concentrating more on the fact that Renly had been gone for some time. He was probably lost. He’d find his way back eventually. Or maybe he’d be eaten by a cougar—a cougar Brienne should have killed because Brienne could kill cougars because Brienne had killed one before, all because she was so good at killing things—

 “—and I guess I’ve always wanted to see more of the world.”

 “I’m sorry, what?” Loras mumbled, realizing he’d missed her entire explanation, only to then realize he didn’t much care if he did. But he’d asked once more, and this time listened as she continued. The way she looked at Loras told him she knew he didn’t care.

  _Good_.

 “I was just saying I’ve never really belonged where I was. I mean, I… sort of stand out a bit. I’ve always been a bit strange compared to the other girls. They all know how to cook and clean and how to embroider and hem… I was never very good at that sort of stuff, and none of the girls treated me very well. So I learned how to shoot with the other boys, despite being teased mercilessly for it…” She shrugged again, and for some reason she looked very small, curled up around herself, the light of the fire in her eyes as she stared at the flames. “Shooting became an escape for me and I just got good at it. So good that I guess I made a bit of a reputation for myself around the farms in the area. But it didn’t earn me much respect, even though I could shoot as good as any of the other men. So I decided to leave…”

 Loras found he was listening as she continued, hands squeezing together then relaxing; squeezing together then relaxing, and squeezing together then relaxing. An ache pressed in his gut, Brienne’s story hitting too close to Loras’ own experiences. Shooting becoming an escape, wanting to see the world before it passed him by, never quit fitting in but not understanding _why_ —even though Loras’ uniqueness was down to something he could hide and even suppress, while Brienne was just… tall. And homely. And utterly alone.

 Loras had Renly, but Brienne… Loras couldn’t think of ever seeing a girl as tall or as strong as she.

_Well, you do have similarities—more than you’d admit to, of course…_ Renly’s words rang through Loras’ head, and if he’d been near him he’d have punched him for being _right_.

 “You seemed well liked at your ranch…” he mumbled after a time, realizing he was expected to reply, Brienne’s attention once again on him.

 “My father, yes. Everyone else has been courteous, but not nice—never nice. Not until… well, not until you and Renly arrived.”

 “Yeah, Renly’s real nice,” Loras said, rolling his eyes as fondness leaked into her voice once more _._

“Besides, after I killed those men…” Brienne trailed off, and Loras watched as she curled in a bit, mimicking his action as they sat on either side of the fire. Hands pressed together, she squeezed down, the smile she’d worn speaking about Renly merely a phantom on a haunted face.

 He’d seen that look before, but it was in hazel eyes against the reflection of an old mirror in an abandoned house years ago.

_Those were her first kills. She’d never killed anyone before that day…_ Once again the sense of familiarity crept along Loras spine, making him feel uncomfortable, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

 He felt guilty.

 “It gets easier,” he began. She looked at him curiously. “I mean, remembering how you’ve killed… it gets easier. You were protecting your loved ones and… there was reason for it. B-Besides, if all goes according to plan, you won’t have to kill another person—just cougars and whatever else.”

 “Thank you, Tyrell…” she said. Loras sent her a weak smile in return. It was the least he could do.

 Once again silence resumed; the crackle of the fire and the chirp of crickets the only sounds around them, both lost in thought.

 Eventually Renly returned, a bit winded but not appearing to have been maimed. He offered to take first watch, Brienne ready to retire, but Loras took it instead, wanting to think about his and Brienne’s exchange a little longer. As soon as Brienne was rolled up inside her tent, her large form nothing but a black shape, Renly kissed Loras’ temple then went to their shared tent, rolled up in their blankets like a burrito.

 Left alone, Loras embraced the sight of the flames and glowing embers, the crackle of burning wood and the music of the crickets clearing his mind, letting him muse freely. He too had been naïve and young, not understanding the world around him; the things that made life as complex and varying as it was. He too had once been lost and confused, unsure of where he was going in life. But then he found Renly—Renly with his laughing eyes and wild hair; his grace and intelligence; his kindness and love. Renly had taken Loras under his wing, protected him and made sure he would be ready for the world. And when he coated his hands with blood, Renly was there to clean him off and hold those blood stained hands and kiss those hands and cherish those hands. Never complaining and never judging, Renly was Loras’ everything—his shining light in a world that was dark.

 Renly was Loras’ sun…

 And Loras supposed he could share a bit of that light with Brienne.

 Just a little, mind you.


	26. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own them
> 
> Warning: Violence
> 
> Authors Note: When you read this, keep in mind that Renly and Loras are violent outlaws, and Renly's got some major issues, so his reaction isn't as extreme as it may seem.

They’d finally reached some truly mountainous areas just as the season had begun to turn into summer. The air was no longer cool to a touch, rather muggy and warm during the day and bitterly cold during the night, the altitude of the mountains making it frostier than it had any right to be. The bugs had gone away in some areas, but in others they were just as thick, earning Renly a few glares, his continual assurance that the bugs would get better a complete lie.

 But they were in the _mountains_. Pine trees lined the paths while thick underbrush consisting of foxtails, moss and rose brambles. Rivers rushed by along with creeks and waterfalls, the three of them never very far from some source of water. The air smelled of life, pine and sap and rich dirt, filling Loras’ nostrils anytime he took a deep breath, and he held it in like tobacco smoke. And the mountains themselves were beyond anything Loras could have ever imagined, the drawings and the lone photograph he’d peered at not even half the beauty of seeing them in person.

 Loras spent the week traveling up to the mountains just staring at them as they rode through the prairie, the large rocks and cracked earth looming ahead of them. Some days you could see them clearly against the horizon, while other days they were shrouded by low lying clouds, lurking behind fog and rain, withholding their secrets and wonders from Loras. When they finally reached their first mountain—smaller than some of the largest ones, but no less impressive— Loras was completely enamoured with the beauty and mystery the land had to offer, wanting to see it all but knowing he’d only really ever explore a small part, even if he spent all his life surrounded by the tall cliffs and green pines.

 Loras thought it fitting Renly had come from this type of land. A man as beautiful and as wild as Renly could only have come from a place just the same.

“It’s just like in the storybooks I used to read,” Loras said their third day in the mountains. Lounging on a rock near the river, Loras stared down at the crisp clean pools down below, fingertips touching the water, the little flashes of light as it bounced across the tips of cresting water holding his attention. He was so transfixed he hadn’t even realized he’d spoken, his stupor broken when there was a reply off to the side.  

 “How do you mean?” Brienne asked, fiddling with a stick. Apparently she was going to try and fish here. Loras was mixed on whether he wanted her to succeed or fail. Failing would give him a chance to judge her further, but if she succeeded then they’d have fish for dinner.

 Sitting up a bit, he propped his torso up on his elbow, squinting as the setting sun got in his eyes. Brienne shifted then, as if she knew, her head blocking the sun so he could see her properly. “When I was a kid I had a bunch of storybooks that I’d read, and all of them had illustrations in them. I’d spend hours thinking about what it’d be like to come up here—see what adventures there were to be had… never thought I’d actually be here.”

 Brienne smiled, her large fingers deftly working on putting a lure on a hook—a bit of worm. It didn’t look appetizing, but then again, Loras wasn’t a fish. “I didn’t read a lot as a child…”

 “My brother read to me mostly,” Loras said, wondering why he was sharing this with her, but deciding it couldn’t hurt. She still made eyes at Renly and seemed oblivious to the fact that the two of them were lovers, but she was good to have around. With three people the workload wasn’t as heavy, and Brienne was good at hunting and skinning.

 Not as good as he was, of course, but she was still fair. Better than Renly who still fainted anytime he saw the entrails of a rabbit.

 “I don’t remember my brother, much,” Brienne began, her gaze darting down to the hook in her hand, attention fixated on it and not Loras as she continued. “He drowned when I was eight, and my sisters died when they were babes...”

 Loras swallowed then, suddenly feeling very awkward. Sitting up, he cleared his throat, a pang of guilt swirling in his gut. Was he the only one in all of America who wasn’t tortured by family death and past drama? Brushing off a bit of dust from his arm, he fiddled with a tiny stone that had gotten caught under his fingernail, trying to think of something to say _. I’m far too lucky_ , he thought, watching the stone press into the tip of his finger, _my brothers and sister are well and fine…_ “I’m sorry to hear that. My family has never had such a tragedy.” Save for when his grandfather rode his horse off of a cliff, but that was before his time. Flicking the stone away, he sighed.

 “When was the last time you saw your family?” she asked after she cast her line, both watching the arch of the string as it sailed through the air, landing with a satisfying plop in the water.

 When _was_ the last time Loras had seen his family? “I guess it’d be close to three years now… I don’t know; it’s been a while.”

 He wondered if they were alright. While thoughts of them had seemed to almost haunt him for months after he’d left, as the days went by and events took place that completely changed his world, Loras found he was thinking about the past less and less. He wasn’t running from it like Renly was, but he had come to realize that dwelling would only hurt, and remembering Margaery’s smile, Garlan’s laugh, and Willas’ stories hurt an awful lot.

 “Renly’s my family now,” he said, watching the lure in the water.

 “Have you been traveling with him for long?”

_Longer than you’ll ever travel with him._ “All three years. We met a few days after I left home.” _And fell in love shortly afterward, but I was too much a fool to realize it._

“Does Renly have any family?”

 “No.” He said it so quickly even he believed the lie for a moment. But Renly _didn’t_ have family—not really, save for Loras and perhaps Snow and Greyjoy. Robert and Stannis were just ghosts from Renly’s past, or so he made them out to be. The thought that Renly had any blood relatives was a strange thought; almost abstract. “He doesn’t talk about his past a lot.”

 “I’ve noticed…” she said, staring straight ahead, attention fixed on the hook bobbing in the water. “I figure he must tell you everything, though.”

 Loras flushed with anger and embarrassment _. You’d think he would, but he doesn’t—he never does._ Renly was still a bit of a puzzle, no matter how many years passed and how much gentle prodding Loras did. There was no way through Renly’s steel exterior when he put it up, and Loras had given up trying. Occasionally he’d be granted peeks into his past life, and every time he’d learn about something that further clarified how Renly ticked—why he did what he did and thought what he thought. But they were few and far between. Just like Loras, he didn’t think about the past, just where he was going to go and what he wanted to see and experience. He just kept going…

 “He tells me things occasionally,” he finally said, a bit irritated that he couldn’t honestly tell her she was correct. Even when Renly was with him—completely and utterly _with_ him—their bodies tight together, skin pressed against skin, warm breath against his lips, eyes locked and bodies rocking together, Loras felt a certain disconnect. A barrier was there, stopping Loras from seeing the real, complete Renly. Loras left nothing closed off in those moments, but Renly did—Renly withheld a little piece of himself from Loras.

 He probably always would.

 There was silence once more, Loras not feeling like talking anymore, while Brienne was busy concentrating on her fishing. Loras had gone fishing with his brothers when he was younger, but he didn’t have the patience for it.

 Sighing, he eventually stood, cracking his back as he threw his arms above his head, fingers locked together, stretching out every cord in his body. Sleeping on the ground and riding all day would make for tight muscles. That and not having a lot of personal time alone with Renly, meant Loras was always wound a little tight these days. Picking his way across the stones along the bank, he listened to the stomp of his feet and the slide of stones, stopping just at the edge where the forest lined the stream, breathing in the smell of wet earth.

 “Thank you.”

 He almost didn’t catch it, the rush of the river too loud and the distance too far. Turning around, he stared at Brienne’s back, watching her cast the lure out again, broad shoulders working the makeshift fishing pole like she’d always had it. Just as he thought he’d gone crazy, though, she turned around and smiled shyly at him. He couldn’t help but return it, although his was more confused.

 “For what?” he called back.

 “Sharing your story about your brother with me.”

 Loras supposed he should have thanked her for sharing about her family, too, but he didn’t rightly know if it was proper to thank someone for telling them about their dead brother and sisters. Instead he just nodded, Brienne turning around soon after, letting Loras leave without feeling as if she was expecting more. Stomping through the woods, he entered the small campsite to see Renly sitting on the log, fixings for a fire ready beside him, hair a wild mess as it fell out of the tight braid Loras had wrapped it in the night before.

 “What are you doing?” Loras asked, going to stand beside Renly, ruffling his hair further into disrepair. Renly batted his hand away and reached up to tug Loras down, grabbing him by his belt and pulling. Going with the motion, Loras plopped down on the log beside Renly, his hair ruffling turning more into petting.

 “I was looking for bits of deadfall to use for kindling,” Renly explained as soon as Loras was sitting beside him.

 “Where, underground? Your hair is a mess.”

 “I had a wild love affair with a deer while you were gone.”

 Loras was about to make a snide remark about Renly being fascinated with stags, when Renly opened up his hand and shoved it under his nose, showing off an assortment of berries on his palm.

 “What are those?” Loras asked, eying them. They were small and red, with little yellow dots littering their oval shape.

 “Wild strawberries,” Renly said, plucking one from his palm. “They’re hard to spot because they just blend in on the forest floor, but it’s like finding gold when you see them. Try it.”

 Lifting a brow, Loras took one from Renly’s hand and inspected it, wondering how such a small fruit could be like finding gold. He’d had strawberries before, Margaery having decided to try and grow them in the vegetable patch behind their house. They had to be looked after carefully in Texas, the weather a bit too harsh for their liking. But the reward was undeniable, and Loras found himself enjoying the sweet fruit more than anyone else in the house.

 But wild strawberries? They looked far too small to contain much flavour, but the way Renly was looking at him with such eagerness and zeal, Loras couldn’t help but get a bit excited at the prospect of having the fruit he loved so much once more. Slipping it past his lips, he chewed thoughtfully, a grin blossoming on Renly’s face as the flavours spread across Loras’ pallet.

 “So…?” Renly asked.

 “It’s delicious,” Loras said, returning the grin. It _was_ delicious. For such a small fruit the flavour inside was incredible. It had been a long time since Loras had tasted something sweet, and to have it come from such a small berry that Renly had just happened to spot on the ground was thrilling. “Thank you, Renly.”

 “Anything for my Little Rose,” he said, kissing Loras’ cheek before he began to nuzzle gently. Turning, Loras tilted Renly’s head up and captured his lips in a kiss. Slow and steady, they both melted under it, their tongues tasting of the strawberries as they slipped past their lips and rubbed together. Cupping the back of Renly’s head, Loras deepened the kiss, scooting forward so he was almost on Renly’s lap, the log wide enough to allow such a position. But before he could go any further Renly was pulling away slightly, eyes glassy and lips shining with spit.

 “Brienne will come back soon.”

 Sighing, Loras nipped Renly’s bottom lip. “She’s fishing.” Ducking his head, he trailed kisses along his jaw, feeling the bit of stubble that had developed with his lips. “Come on, we haven’t done anything for weeks.”

 “We sucked each other’s pricks three days ago.”

 “Not enough,” Loras complained. Loras was starting to get impatient, wanting to be with Renly completely after having been subject to quick touches here and there, with little to no clothing shed and a paranoia that seemed to pervade every action. Loras didn’t care if Brienne was around—she should have worked it out long ago that he and Renly were lovers. “I want all of you… please?” he lifted his head and stared at Renly, watching his blue eyes skirt around his face, flicking to the side where the little trail to the river lay.

 “It’s not proper for her to find us half naked and fucking,” Renly finally said, although he sounded disappointed as he said it.

 Groaning, Loras collapsed forward, forehead pressed against Renly’s shoulder. “I just want you,” he mumbled, ignoring the slightly patronizing tone to the pat on his back.

 “I know, Loras… soon. When we get to town we’ll get a room and you can strip me naked and spread my legs.”

 “That was a very romantic image you just gave me.”

 “I try… now braid my hair?”

 Lifting his head, Loras smiled as more wisps of hair came out of the messy braid to float around his head. “I suppose I could do that.”

 Renly got down on the forest floor and sat between Loras’ legs, shifting around a bit to get comfortable before relaxing against the log, humming as Loras’ fingers carded through his hair, breaking the knots apart and undoing the braid.

 “So how is Brienne doing?” Renly asked after a time, Loras trying to be gentle with his fingers as he caught some knots.

 “Fine… why?”

 “I don’t know, she seems less… spooked, I guess. Did you talk to her about how she killed two men for the first time?”

 “Long time ago… why?”

 “She told me about it.”

 “Why are you asking me if I told her, then?” He tugged a little harder than necessary. Renly made a rude gesture with his hand.

 “I just thought I’d get you to fess up to the fact that you were nice to her.”

 Rolling his eyes, Loras began to re-braid Renly’s hair, taking his time. “She seemed like she needed reassurance… besides, I’m not all mean.”

 “Nah, you aren’t. In fact, you’re incredibly cordial with a lot of the ladies we meet, which is why I am so surprised you’re a terror toward Brienne.”

 Loras yanked his braid again, making Renly hiss. “I am not a terror, and I am not mean to her. I just don’t blather on about stuff like you do.”

 “Sometimes I wish you would, so you didn’t bottle everything up and then go on and on about how beautiful the mountains are, and if I saw that squirrel on the log, and how the trees smell so green later on when I am trying to sleep—”

 Loras yanked Renly again, and ducked down just in time to lick a stripe across Renly’s neck, stopping at his ear to suck on his lobe. Renly let out a shrill shriek followed by laughter, his hands wrapping back around to push Loras away. He only managed to tug him forward, though, and Loras collapsed on top of Renly, laughing as they rolled around on the ground, Renly trying to stuff dirt and pine needles down the back of Loras’ shirt.

 “I—do—not—do—that,” Loras managed to get out, fending Renly off by grabbing his wrists, holding him back.

 “Yes you do,” Renly said. He eventually gave up trying to shove the clot down his shirt, and instead tossed it in Loras’ face. Spitting out the dirt, Loras lost the ability to think as Renly jumped off of him and ran into the woods, head automatically shaking from side to side, dirt flying everywhere. Brushing a hand over his face, Loras just sat in the middle of the camp, still in disbelief.

 That was, until the need for revenge took over.

 Shooting up, Loras saw Renly a short distance away, hiding behind a tree, a mischievous smirk on his lips. “You’re going to pay for that!” Loras yelled, leaping over the log to chase after Renly. Running through the woods around the campsite, Renly dodged around trees, Loras trailing after him, keeping him in his line of sight. He’d already learned how easy it was to lose someone between the trees, Renly’s hair serving as a guide as they ran through the woods, the long dark strands trailing after Renly as he laughed and dodged Loras’ grasps.

 Eventually Renly began to slow, his laughter making his breathing laboured. Just as he went to lean against a tree to catch his breath Loras was there, tackling him to the ground. They landed on ferns and moss, the two rolling around on the plants as Renly tried to get away from Loras, laughter silencing the chirp of birds and the call from squirrels.

 “I’m going to get you back for that,” Loras said between chuckles, rolling them over to pin Renly to the ground. Grabbing his arms, he hiked them over Renly’s head, holding them in place as he stared down at Renly. Eyes bright with amusement and lips pulled back in a full grin, Renly panted underneath Loras, his body stilling as he was successful subdued.

 “And how will you be doing that?” Renly asked, challenging Loras.

_I have no idea…_ “If I tell you, it’ll ruin the surprise.”

 “Am I going to be punished now or after you clean your face?”

 Rolling his eyes, Loras was about to come up with a rebuttal when Renly’s lips were covering his own, the distance between them closed. Relaxing under the kiss, Loras pressed back, his hands still tight against Renly’s wrists.

 When they broke, Renly licked his lips and pulled a face. “Now I’ve got grit in my mouth.”

 “And whose fault is that?” Loras asked, finally letting go of Renly’s wrist. Immediately Renly had his arms wrapped around Loras’ shoulders, fingers tangling in his messy curls.

 “All my fault—terribly sorry about that, but I do like it when you’re a little dirty.” He winked then, and Loras had no choice but to wipe away his smug smirk with another kiss, both of them grinning into the embrace as Loras’ hands wandered down Renly’s sides. The kiss turned heated soon enough, lips parting and tongue sliding together. Sucking on Renly’s tongue, Loras started to grind downward, Renly’s hips bucking upward to meet Loras’, the two becoming more urgent in their movements.

 “T-Thought you wanted to wait,” Loras mumbled as they broke, lips trailing down Renly’s neck, nose pushing back tangled hair to get to the warm skin.

 “I didn’t _want_ to wait,” Renly panted out, fingers massaging the back of Loras’ neck, legs spreading a bit underneath so that Loras could rest between them. “I was just being a gentleman.”

 “If you didn’t bring Brienne with us, we wouldn’t have this problem,” Loras replied, biting Renly’s neck. Renly let out a low moan then, his grip on Loras tightening as they rocked. Loras could feel his pants constricting, cock hardening as they ground together, an equally responsive hardness pressing against his hip and thigh.

 “We’ve b-been over this, Loras…”

 “I know, but I didn’t think our act of charity would mean we’d have to stop fucking,” Loras growled, sucking on Renly’s earlobe. The growl was returned, and Loras found Renly’s legs wrapped tightly around his waist so he could flip their positions.

 Rolling over a stone, Loras cringed slightly, but didn’t verbalize his discomfort, Renly’s lips and insistent hands over his body enough to soothe the ache in his lower back where the stone dug. “You’re incorrigible,” he whispered against Loras’ lips before crashing them together. Tugging and pulling at Renly’s shirt, Loras ground upward as Renly pushed down, the two rutting on the forest floor, the previous playful mood gone as lust took over. “You want me to fuck you right now, right here?” Renly asked when they pulled away, both breathing heavily. “Is that what you really want, Loras?”

 Staring up at him, Loras tilted his chin upward, eyes narrowing. “Yes.”

 Renly’s reaction wasn’t what Loras had expected. Instead of going back down for a heated kiss and the removal of clothes, he rolled his eyes and sat up, running a hand through his hair. “Brienne is going to be back at the campsite soon with no one there. She’s going to get worried.”

  _Unbelievable_. Pushing Renly off of him, Loras stood and tried to straighten out, brushing Renly’s hand away as he reached for him. “You are seriously beginning to piss me off, Renly.”

 “Why, because I don’t want to leave someone sitting alone in the woods while the sun sets?” Renly asked, standing up, this time catching hold of Loras’ arm as he used him for support. But he didn’t let go, instead he only held on tighter, keeping Loras in place. “Besides, it’s going to be dark soon and two men fucking in the woods with bears running around is a really stupid idea.”

 Shoving Renly away, Loras shook his head, running a hand through his curls. One finger got caught and he tugged hard, the sting from the pulled hairs making him even angrier—as if Renly had also caused the curls in his hair to tangle. Which he had when he thought about it. “I’m not just angry about how you pamper Brienne—which you do, don’t deny it. I’m angry because you brought her on this trip, you tell her things that you never told me when we first met, and you continue to hide things from me!”

 He didn’t mean to get so angry so quickly, and he certainly didn’t mean to reveal his true irritation. In fact, he wasn’t even aware his anxiety and rage was coming from Renly’s adamant refusal to reveal anything about himself, but here it was again, after years of trying to convince himself it didn’t matter that Renly was still such an enigma. Because it shouldn’t matter—a man can have his secrets. But it hurt Loras in a way he hadn’t thought possible. He’d given Renly his everything, and yet there was still this wall between them—a barrier that kept them from really knowing and trusting each other. Loras loved Renly more than he thought possible, but there was a pain and a darkness there that Loras couldn’t touch because Renly wouldn’t let him.

 Or couldn’t let him.

 “Oh, so that’s what this is about?” Renly retorted, catching on to the last bit and not letting go, like a dog with its teeth around the neck of a rabbit. “You’re angry at me so you’re taking it out on Brienne?”

 “I’m not taking it out on Brienne,” Loras said, cheeks flushing. “But you treat her differently than I’ve seen you treat anyone, including myself.”

 Renly rolled his eyes, hands on his hips. He laughed, although it was mirthless, and clicked his tongue. “I treat her like a fucking human, Loras, which is more than I can say for you. You’re jealous and you’re angry, and so you lash out at her and now at me. It’s incredibly childish of you.”

 Anger swelled up in Loras then, and he made move to strike Renly, a rage he’d been able to keep down surfacing and refusing to leave. He wanted to hit Renly like he wanted to hit that boy when he was a child, and like he wanted to hit Tywin Lannister all those years ago. The need to strike was almost unbearable. But Renly saw the movement, his hand snapping out to grab Loras’ wrist before he could move.

 “Do you really want to hit me?” Renly asked, voice low and grip strong. Pausing, Loras stared him down, nostrils flared and blood hot in his system. But Renly’s question had managed to take root, Loras pausing long enough for the pressure to come down. He _didn’t_ want to hit Renly… at least, not too hard.

 “You’re fucking terrible,” he ground out instead, ripping his arm away. “You accuse me of all these things when we really know you’re the one who is trying to prove something with Brienne and helping her out. Trying to atone for more of your sins, Renly? Trying to make up for shit in the past that you won’t even tell me about?”

 It was Renly’s turn to be angry, his defenses up, a flash in his eyes telling Loras he was just as ready to strike as he was. “You should just shut your mouth before you go too far, Loras.”

 Snorting, Loras continued to press, moving up in his space so they were standing and staring straight at each other. “There is something going on with you Renly that is so goddamn annoying and confusing and dangerous that I can’t even begin to comprehend. And yet I follow you, Renly. I follow you without question, I stand by you without question, I defend you without question—I fell in love with you without question. And yet you keep me at a distance and you keep pushing me away, as if telling me about your past is the worst thing I could possibly ask of you.”

“Well it is the worst thing you could do to me,” Renly snapped back, jaw tight. “So stop it—if you love me you won’t push me.”

 “If I love you I’ll stop pushing?” Loras let out a bark of laughter as he pulled away. Heading to the tree, he shook his head and turned around, shoulders hunched as he stared at Renly. “It’s my love that has kept me with you, Renly. It’s my stupid unconditional love that has made it so I haven’t just got up and left because of your refusal to tell me _anything_ ever.”

 “Hasn’t me agreeing to go up north with you when I’ve told you time and time again I don’t want to go worth anything?”

  “But you won’t tell me why, Renly! You never tell me why, just that it makes you uncomfortable. Just fucking _tell_ me, Renly.”

 “Or what, you’ll leave me again?”

 The spite in Renly’s voice made Loras recoil, eyes narrowing as Renly spit out so much venom he thought he was a rattlesnake. “That was one time, Renly. When I was younger and stupid and had no idea what we meant to each other.”

 “Yeah, well you still left.”

 “Because I was sick of you running away from your fears! When are you going to tell me why you don’t want to go north? When are you going to tell me what happened to your Uncle or your brothers? You can’t run away from your blood family, Renly. They’re a part of you—they _are_ you.”

 Something snapped then.

 Loras felt it before he saw it—like something had hit him in the chest, hard and uncompromising, making him dazed and sick, pins pricking under his sternum and behind his eyes. But then he looked at Renly, and a cold dread washed over him. There was madness in his eyes, a rage that he hadn’t ever seen in Renly’s gaze before. He was staring at Loras, but Loras was positive he wasn’t _seeing_ him, even as he charged. Loras had only a second to steady himself before Renly’s fist connected to his jaw, sending him reeling off to the side. But Renly did not relent, and grabbed hold of Loras, moving to strike him again. This time Loras took the blow at an odd angle, causing him to bite his cheek, blood pooling out immediately. Renly didn’t have time to hit again, however, Loras having enough presence of mind in his rattled head to grab him and shoving him away. But Renly came back in just as soon as he could, the pain in Loras’ head enough to make him stumble as they collided, vision spinning as he tumbled to the ground.

Renly was on top of him as they fell, holding on to Loras, repeatedly saying something Loras couldn’t hear over the rush of blood in his head. Kneeing Renly in the stomach, he tried to get him off, not wanting to hurt him even as he was attacked, knowing that this wasn’t Renly—that something was terribly wrong and if he could just _stop_ him, maybe he’d also stop hitting and snarling and yelling. He had no idea what was going on, Renly was trying to hit him, grabbing his arms and ripping them away as Loras tried to push him off. The blows were weak but frantic, almost manic in the way he was hitting Loras, punching him in the shoulders and arms, hitting his face again before he aimed low toward his stomach, Loras unable to curl in and protect his gut in time.

 But just as Renly was moving in to strike, Loras finally heard what he was saying, the words making Loras feel sicker than any hit to the gut could cause.

 “I am _nothing_ like my brothers!”

Loras took the blow to his stomach, stilling from the shock at what he was hearing, Renly’s words colliding with the punch, causing him to try and curl in as he let out a wretch. Renly was still on him though, heavy and hot, the strain and heartache and senselessness hitting Loras in waves. But finally, just as Loras thought Renly would never show any chance of stopping, he saw an opening and managed to flip Renly off of him, using his loss of balance as he raised his fist to throw him on to the ground.

 Hitting the ground beside him, Loras was fully prepared to fend off another manic attack when Renly seemed to come to his senses. Stilling on the ground a short distance from Loras, his eyes wide, fingers digging into the dirt, knuckles red from hitting Loras, his hair was a wild mess around his head, getting in his eyes and sticking to his parted lips. Panting, they just stared, Renly silent as Loras sat up slowly, his chest and stomach hurting while his jaw felt numb. Still, saying and doing nothing, they just regarded each other, Renly’s eyes wide, chest heaving up and down as he finally quieted.

 Not knowing what to do, Loras just sat awkwardly, still curled in around his stomach, every breath making him ache.  _What just happened?_

It wasn’t until Loras had raised a hand to brush away a bit of blood that had beaded up on his lip that Renly reacted. Face going slack and brows furrowing, Renly’s eyes were no longer crazed, and instead regret and sorrow leaked into them, making Loras ache even more than he thought possible.

 “I’m _so_ sorry, Little Rose…” Renly whispered.

 Loras had him in his arms just as Renly collapsed in around himself. Hands that had been hitting him short moments ago were now clutching his shirt, holding on to him like a lifeline as he sobbed into his shirt, body shaking with a grief that Loras couldn’t even begin to make better. All the pent up anger and rage had come out in that moment, Renly reaching such a dark place Loras thought he’d never see him smile again—as dramatic as such a notion was. But in the moment, when Renly’s eyes went wide with anger and lunacy, Loras was _scared_.

 “I’m so sorry,” Renly said between sobs, repeating it again and again, no matter how many times Loras told him it was okay, his voice soft and steady despite the tremble in his hands. Running his fingers through Renly’s tangled hair, Loras just held on to him as he cried, aching all over but refusing to let go—he’d never let go.


	27. Haunting Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own them
> 
> Warnings: None
> 
> Authors Note: And finally we get the full story... Or do we?

 Renly was avoiding looking at Loras, that much was clear. The cut on his lip and the purple bruise that had blossomed across his jaw were only mildly painful, but they appeared far worse than they actually were—still, Loras could not convince Renly of that.

 After the fight in the woods and Renly’s complete and utter undoing, Loras managed to calm him down enough to get him back to the campsite. By then the sun had set and Brienne had returned, a small fire burning while the fish she had successful caught were cooking. She asked what had happened, noticing the obvious state of disrepair both were in, but neither said much, Renly just telling her not to worry.

 But that was the last thing Renly said that night. He was completely silent for the rest of the evening, his shoulders hunched and arms pressed tight against his stomach as he stared at the fire. Loras tried to rouse his attention, but anything he said or did was just returned with a look that was so guilt-ridden, Loras almost wished he’d never looked up at all. Loras drank a bit that night, the ache in his gut and jaw a bit too much to handle completely sober. Anytime he took a sip from his flask, however, he could see Renly watching him out of the corner of his eye, his eyes wide and brows furrowed, looking almost innocent.

 A far cry from what he’d been like earlier that day.

 Loras was shaken by the event, wondering what had caused him to lash out. Renly was a killer—Loras never forgot that—but he sometimes forgot that Renly actually _hurt_ people. It was ridiculous really, because after all, he _killed_ people—that was hurting them, wasn’t it? But it was a hard notion to grasp that Renly—the ever smiling, happy Renly—hurt people, beat people and killed people for many years before Loras met him. Of course he was violent, and yet it was so queer to see it come out.

 Especially when it was directed at him.

 To see such terror and anger and hatred in Renly’s eyes shook Loras more than the actual attack had. And what he’d been yelling…

  _“I am nothing like my brothers”_

 Loras did not press that evening, and when he woke in the morning (all alone and with no warmth beside him), he feared perhaps Renly had run off. The idea that Renly could feel so guilty about what he’d done that he had to leave not an impossible one. Renly was always so concerned for Loras and his wellbeing, continually asking how he was and if he needed this or that. He doted on Loras just as much as Loras doted on him, only Loras knew Renly felt a different sort of responsibility toward him. He thought he _owed_ Loras something; protection or guidance or whatever it possibly could be. To hurt the person you swore to protect was a crushing feeling.

 Loras should know; the look in Renly’s eyes the first time he left him still weighing on his mind.

 Renly had not left, however. He’d simply gotten up before Loras and had begun to pack up the camp, Brienne joining him at some point. Loras was left to sleep because he ‘needed it’ as Renly put it. He _had_ needed the sleep, however. His stomach felt worse in the morning, and he didn’t even want to see what his face looked like. It hurt to speak too much, and his lip had split open again, blood beading up across an already tender cut. He didn’t want to show his discomfort though, knowing it’d only weight down on Renly further. He tried to tell Renly he was about to hit him, too, and that their physical confrontation was going to happen eventually, but Renly didn’t listen much, attention fixed on the leather straps of the saddle as he got his horse ready.

 Loras just wanted to know what had happened to Renly—why he’d snapped so suddenly. But he couldn’t even get Renly to look at him, let alone open up. So they rode silently side by side, Brienne up ahead, sensing the tension between the two and having no desire to be a part of it. Loras wished he could just ride up ahead, too.

 Renly didn’t say anything until they reached a fork in the mountain trail. They’d agreed to go up toward a mountain trading post that was a short distance away, and then figure out where they wanted to go from there, but just as Brienne was making the turn left, Renly sped his horse up, catching up to her before she could turn.

 “We’re going right,” he said, Loras listening carefully as Ricochet ambled up to the pair.

 Brienne quirked a brow and glanced back at Loras, curiosity in her gaze. Loras just shrugged, no idea what was going on anymore. “Are you sure? I thought we were going up to that trading post,” she asked.

 “Change of plans,” Renly replied, turning his horse around as Brienne nodded, a bit hesitant about the change but willing to trust Renly as a guide. Loras trusted him too, but couldn’t help but question him as he returned to ride beside Loras once more.

 “Where are we going?”

 Renly didn’t say anything for a moment, easily guiding his horse around the turn, the broad rim of his hat shading most of his face. Finally he spoke, staring straight ahead. “We’re going to a town I know that’s two days ride from here.”

 “Why?”

 Again Renly was silent, but when he did answer he turned to look at Loras. Loras never thought having someone look at him would feel so good.  The guilt was still there in his gaze, but there was also a resolve as well. Whatever they were doing, Renly was sure of it. “I just think we should go visit. I know I haven’t given you much to go on, and I know I’ve been a right fool these last few… well, years, but please, Loras, trust me on this?”

 Loras nodded without hesitation. “Of course,” he said. He’d been blindly trusting Renly for years, and even though his jaw hurt and his stomach felt like it’d been hit by a train, he wasn’t about to stop trusting Renly now.  

XX

The rest of the ride that day had been taken in silence, Brienne trying to strike up a few conversations, but neither of them replying much. As soon as the camp had been set up and their dinner had been eaten, Brienne turned in for the night, obviously unable to handle the tension that seemed to reign supreme throughout the day.

 Loras had offered to take first watch so Renly could sleep, but Renly shook his head and just stayed seated, making no move to leave. Loras wasn’t much tired himself, and sat with Renly by the fire as the stars began to come out one by one. Eventually Renly moved from his perch on an old tree stump to sit beside Loras on the ground, their sides pressed together as they stared in silences at the glowing embers and flickering flame.

 It was then when Renly finally spoke. “I thought the worst thing that could ever happen to me, was to turn out like my brothers…” he mumbled, voice soft—distant even. As if he wasn’t really there, rather he was wandering off in his mind, voicing his thoughts aloud, Loras only hearing these things because he happened to be present. “I thought the _worst_ thing in the entire would, would to be like my brothers… Not to become a killer or a thief or a cheater—none of that. The worse thing to me was to not cherish a person—to not see the good in people… I thought the worst thing I could ever do was turn out like my brothers by _forgetting_ about someone… I mean, when I was a little I was their responsibility early on. I was born and suddenly our parents were gone and Robert and Stannis had this—this _kid_ to raise. They had this responsibility that they didn’t want but had to deal with because it wasn’t supposed to be like that; our parents weren’t supposed to just _die_. But they did, and I was left with my brothers and an ailing uncle and it was all so _unfair_.”

 Loras reached out then, his hand resting gently on Renly’s shoulder. He was beyond tense. _He’s scared_ , Loras thought, _He’s scared of the past… He hasn’t been avoiding telling me because of distrust. It’s was because of_ fear _._ But Renly didn’t seem to feel Loras’ hand, or if he did he made no move to acknowledge him, his eyes still locked on the dancing flames, eyes glassy and mouth tense. Loras wasn’t sure if he was done speaking, but Renly let out a small, soft sigh, before he began again, voice still soft and slightly muffled, Loras hanging on every word as he finally— _finally_ —shed the ghosts of his past.

 “My brothers and I, along with my uncle Cressen, we lived up in the mountains in this cabin my great grandparents built when they began to settle up here. They did trapping and the like, and would sell pelts down in the town that was about a day’s ride through the mountain pass. My brothers were supposed to look after me, and they did… they did. Not in the way a child craves, of course. It’s hard when you go to your brothers looking for a hug, and instead all you got was a pat on the head and a little nod—just the barest of recognitions that you were there. Nothing more. I never knew why they seemed so distant with me; I could never figure it out as a kid. All I knew was that I thought Robert didn’t like me and Stannis saw me as a duty—nothing more or less. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized I was a reminder of how things had changed and that our parents were gone and weren’t coming back. I was something that they had to look after not by choice, but because our parents died and left us. I was their reminder of that reality…

 “One year, when I was about five, Robert left. It had been a tough winter and we needed food and supplies but had no way to get it. So Robert went down to live in the town and ended up getting a job down there. He’d come back once a month with goods for us—food and new equipment mostly. It wasn’t much, but it was enough and it was appreciated.  One day he brought me back a toy, even. My first real toy—not one that wasn’t made by Cressen or an old stick I pretended was a gun or a sword. But a real toy… it was of a knight. It was made of wood but painted over with bright colours. The silver glimmered in the sunlight, and I remember playing with it for hours during those brief moments where I was allowed to be a kid. It was the greatest gift I’d ever been given, and for a little while I began to believe that Robert cared about us—cared about _me_... But shortly after I received the knight, Robert came less and less up to the cabin. A month turned into a month and a half, then two months, finally three, until he just stopped coming…”

 Renly fell silent again, but his hand trailed over to grasp Loras’ knee, squeezing down on it. His hand was hot and reassuring, despite the urgency at which he was gripping Loras.

 “Stannis said he was a drunk,” Renly said all of a sudden, voice a little louder but still distant. “He said the last time he visited he reeked of alcohol, and that he hadn’t brought them any money because he’s spent it all drinking. He was _furious_ , Stannis was. He was angrier than I’d ever seen him. I didn’t realize the reason he was so livid was because we didn’t have any food or money in which to buy supplies, and winter was coming. He was twenty-two and had to look after an eight year old-- an eight year old that didn’t understand anything that was going on. Stannis got more and more distant as he tried to just keep us alive. Cressen was beginning to get older and he couldn’t set his traps out as far as he once could, and the animals we were catching small little things, such as skinny hares and ground squirrels. Stannis had to do everything basically—everything but look after me in the way that I craved. Having bits of food to eat while all well and good for the body doesn’t do much for the soul. I craved my brother’s affection like I’ve never craved anything else. I just wanted him to look at me and not see me as a _burden_ …

 “Eventually Stannis left, too. He went down to the town one spring and found himself a job, one that brought in money and a reputation—or so he said. He’d come up as many times as he could do give us what we needed, but would quickly disappear back down the mountain, returning a few weeks later to repeat the process. Cressen was… upset that Stannis had left. He loved Stannis in a way he didn’t love Robert or I. I mean… he cherished us, but not like Stannis—he felt Stannis needed more affection than I, and I’d like to say that it hurt, but I’d become used to being mostly forgotten... Cressen was also getting sick, though, and as I grew older I had to take care of him while Stannis took care of all three of us. I learned to trap and to hunt and cook, and I did my best because it was what our parents would have wanted… at least, that’s what I was told.

 “But then Cressen got _really_ sick just before winter. This fever hit that made him burn up, like some fire god had touched him or something. He was delirious most nights, and I had to sit with him as he started to fade, calling out for my parents and for Stannis and for people whose names I’d never heard before…  Stannis hadn’t been up for a month or so, and when he finally did come I had to beg him to use the money he’d saved to buy him some medicine. But Stannis… he… he never came back after that. I waited, of course. Winter started and I waited for when he’d come back… but he never did.”

 Renly’s grip tightened just as his voice seemed to give up on him. His knuckles were bone white on Loras’ knee, hold so tight Loras thought he was going to snap his hand with the force at which he was gripping him. Placing his hand over-top Renly’s, he felt an intense trembling, and tried to soothe it by taking his hand in his own. Renly didn’t seem to notice the shift, his hand turning over on its own accord, fingers lacing with Loras’, only to squeeze down on his hand instead of his knee. But Loras bore the pain, knowing that his physical pain was nothing to whatever Renly was feeling as he opened up about a past that he’d run so far from.

 Taking a shaky breath, Renly seemed to come back from wherever he was for the briefest of moments, eyes no longer locked on the burning embers. Instead they were looking down at the ground, brow furrowing, his eyes still wide, glassy with unshed tears. “Cressen died,” he whispered, “sometime before the spring… he seemed to be better for a few days, but I came back from checking the traps one day and he was dead… just lying there, face slack and eyes already sunken in. I… I didn’t know what to do. I was only eleven and I had no one to turn to. My brothers had left and Cressen was gone and I had this _body_ to deal with. I ended up digging a shallow pit out back and dragged his body to the grave. It wasn’t deep enough and the ground—the ground was too hard. I was so tired and I couldn’t get his body all the way… God, I thought my arms were going to break. I remember… I remember finally getting him into the hole I’d made, and covering him up best I could, before grabbing all the stones around, piling them up one by one. I don’t know how long I worked but by the time I was done I… I was so _cold_. Cold and numb. I couldn’t feel anything at all…

 “I knew Stannis wasn’t coming back. I just… I _knew_ I was alone. So when everything finally melted I packed what I had and I left on my birthday. Or what I thought was my birthday—it’s a bit hard to remember when there isn’t anyone with you to remind you. I just… ran off and I never looked back. I didn’t look at the little cabin we grew up in, I didn’t visit Cressen’s mockery of a grave, I didn’t even take my prized little knight… I just ran away from everything that made me a Baratheon, and I… I _ran_.”

 Renly turned then—slowly and carefully, his gaze sliding over Loras’ form before their eyes were locked. Loras almost broke when he saw the pain in Renly’s gaze, his usual look of mirth and excitement gone, instead replaced by tears that would not fall and an all-consuming loneliness— a pain that Loras would never know and couldn’t possibly try to relate to. And yet Renly was looking for something from him, something that Loras wasn’t sure he could give.

 “I promised myself three things when I left,” Renly said before Loras had a chance to say anything. His voice was stronger now; a sign that he was back with Loras, no longer stuck in that old cabin in the woods that seemed to cage his memories. “One; that I would never become like my brothers and forget about someone—that I would always see the good in a person, and try my goddamn hardest to make them feel accepted and wanted in this screwed up world. The second was that I’d never let myself get attached again; I’d never seek happiness from another person no matter how much I may crave affection. I promised myself I’d never become dependent on another because I knew that they’d go away eventually, too. My brothers were bonded to me through blood, and yet they still left—what would stop someone whom I wasn’t even related to from leaving as well? I promised myself I’d never get attached because everything is so _fleeting_ … but then I met you. Finally, I said I’d never come back here, but once again, I met you and that just went to shit.”

 Renly slipped his hand out of Loras’, raising it to cup his cheek gently, the bruise stinging a bit despite his tender touch. Renly’s attention dropped to the cut on his lip, and the guilt he’d been wearing on his shoulders seemed to have come back. “I’m so sorry…”

 “Stop saying that,” Loras said, voice rough from what seemed like years of disuse. Grabbing Renly’s wrist, he caught his attention, forcing him to look him in the eyes. “Don’t be sorry, Renly. I’ve had worse… Remember that time the woman hit me over the face with a metal money case?” They both smiled, although it was weak, thoughts of laughter almost foreign in that moment.

 He didn’t know what else to say. For once in Loras’ life he was at a loss, a complete and utter loss. Renly had just told him _everything_ —he’d told him about all the tragedy and heartache in his past, giving him insight into why he was so _distant_ all the time. And Loras didn’t know what to do with the information now that he had it. It was strange—he’d been begging for Renly to open up to him for years, and now that he had he didn’t know what to do with the information. He didn’t know what Renly wanted him to do with it all.

 Comfort or sympathy or to just forget about it?

 “I love you,” he finally said, Renly shifting closer. The fire was starting to burn out, but Loras found all the warmth he needed right in front of him. “I love you and I promise… I promise I’ll never leave you. I’ll never truly leave you, Renly. You will always have me, no matter what happens and where we go in our lives. I’ll always be with you in some form or another.”

 The little genuine smile that tugged the corner of Renly’s mouth was something to cherish. Suddenly the ache in Loras’ chest seemed to go away, and as their lips touched the sting from the cut was nothing but a light tingle.

“I’m glad I went against my own rules,” Renly mumbled then they pulled away, foreheads pressed together. “Falling in love with you was the best rule I’ve ever broken.”


	28. Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own them
> 
> Warning: None
> 
> Authors Note: SURPRISE. Just wait for the end. Also, thanks for all the kudos and the comments, you guys! Really means a lot. I'd love to hear from more of you about your thoughts on the fic, and to start some discussions in the comments! Don't be shy!

 “How much longer?”

 “About an hour.”

 “Where are we going again?”

 “A town called Emerald in the middle of a pass between two mountains, right by an emerald coloured lake—hence the name of the town.”

 “Do the mountains have names?”

 “Yeah— one is named ‘Loras’, the other is named ‘Shut Yer Trap’.”

 “Whoever named them had terrible grammar.”

 Loras couldn’t help but laugh, Brienne’s quick retort enough to make him forgive Renly’s not-so-subtle jab at him. He grinned at Brienne as she sent him a wink, both of them ignoring Renly as he sighed dramatically and started to go on about how Brienne had missed the point of his, once again, not-so-subtle jab at Loras. Loras was trying to keep things light—trying to make it so the conversations from the night before wouldn’t weigh down on Renly more than it already had. There were still things Loras wanted to know, things he should know, and things Renly needed to get out, but there was time for that later.

 For now they would laugh and partake in witty banter—a pastime that Brienne seemed to have been taking up rather well. Once she began to grow accustomed to the two of them she began communicating with them more freely, not so ‘stuck-up’ as Loras liked to call it. Loras could understand being on guard, but he was beginning to think she’d never make a joke or laugh at one—well, laugh at one that hadn’t come from Renly. Considering he was the only other person around her, she essentially never laughed or smiled at anything Loras said. She seemed to finally be opening up, however, something Loras wasn’t sure if he enjoyed or not. It certainly lowered stress levels and made him feel less tense (and less like he was a leper), but he also couldn’t honestly say he was desperate for her friendship.

 Still, her light hearted mood made for a more manageable ride, the heavy topics from last night dissolving as the sun rose and light up the beautiful landscape before them, signaling a new day with new promises. Loras couldn’t help but keep most of his attention on Renly, however, the light in him that had been gone for the last few days back and something to be treasured. For a period yesterday Loras thought Renly was well and truly broken. But the smile he wore so well had returned, nothing tense about it. It was genuine and confident, and Loras swore that there was a new spark in Renly’s eyes—a determination for something he hadn’t had before.

 Perhaps speaking about his past had done him some good.

 “Just because you two had a proper education in those new fancy schoolhouses does not mean we all did,” Renly shot back, tossing a bag full of berries he’d collected at Loras. Catching it, he winced slightly, the pull on his stomach muscles unpleasant. Immediately Renly was asking questions, reaching out as they swayed on their saddles to check Loras’ stomach. Batting his hand away, he glowered, opening the bag of berries and plucking one out.

 “I’m fine, love, just a bit sore,” he said, grimacing as the word ‘love’ slipped out. Brienne heard it—Loras could feel her eyes on him, but he refused to meet them. Slipping a few berries past his lips, he chucked the bag back to Renly who passed it to Brienne. Renly was clearly amused by the slip, smiling whimsically at Loras, a tad smug with it all.

 “You sure, Little Rose? Want me to kiss it better?”

 Brienne busied herself with the berries, a blush across her cheeks that highlighted her freckles. Loras watched her carefully before replying, attention returning to Renly. “Ask me that when we’re in town—I’ve got a few aches you could kiss better.” He had no idea where the sudden openness with their relationship had come from. Renly just the other day reprimanding Loras for wanting to instigate anything physical while Brienne was around, but Loras would take what he could, willing to push the conversation some more.

 After all, even though he was still beaten to shit and processing some information that was a bit difficult to deal with, the point remained that Loras hadn’t had a good fuck in a long while.

 “Why are we going to this town?” Brienne asked loudly, cutting off whatever Renly was going to say, that mischievous spark leaving his eyes as quickly as it had come. Renly immediately turned his attention on her, seemingly unfazed by Loras’ words and not so subtle-attempt made at courting him in front of Brienne.

 “It’s a place I grew up near—I thought it’d be nice to sleep in a hotel for a few days, and word has it this place has become a popular destination for those wishing to experience the wild mountains. It gets some tourists from some of the not-so-wild areas of America, and they bring in the money. They have a nice hotel—or so I’ve heard. It’s been a while since I’ve visited.”

 Renly talked about it all so casually that, had Loras not heard his tale last night, he’d have thought he was actually rather fond of the place he ‘grew up near’. Renly was a terrific liar, his emotions rarely betraying him—like right now. Loras watched as he played the part as the homesick young man, excited to return to the place he once called home, a fond smile on his lips and exuding a relaxed and confident demeanour.

 He played the part role—a mighty performance indeed, one that Brienne seemed fooled by.

 Loras was not.

 “Did you spend much time there as a kid?” Brienne pressed further, Renly rolling with it easily enough.

 “When I got a bit older I spent a summer there, working away so I could travel further. But I didn’t like how clean everything was and moved down to a mining town down the way where the world was a little harsher. I learned fast there, which was what I needed.”

 Flashes of Renly as a young boy living as an urchin on the dirty roads of a mining town flashed through Loras’ mind. He felt the ache in his gut return, not entirely from the bruises across his stomach. Renly was such a good liar Loras almost believed the tale himself, but he knew it wasn’t true. That town had ‘taken’ his brothers from him; the thought that Renly would want to spend any more time than he had to there was inconceivable.

 “Did you always live on that ranch of yours?” Loras asked Brienne just as she seemed as if she was going to further question Renly, in return for well-crafted lies and a face so poised it could belong to one of the finest actors in the world.

 Brienne nodded and continued forward with a story, Renly staring down at the horn of his saddle, his mask dropped to show the lines on his face and the weight on his shoulders.

XX

 “Are you sure you want to be here?” Loras asked.

 “Yeah…” Renly mumbled, holding back the lace curtains from the window of the hotel room, staring out at the busy street below.

 As soon as they had arrived in the town—a pretty place with a paved road (well, _half_ a paved road, but they boasted that the entire town would be paved in a few years’ time), Renly had taken them to the hotel and ushered them inside, wanting to be in and away from prying eyes as soon as possible. They got a room for Brienne separate from theirs, and went to their own after helping her with her saddle packs. It was a small space with two twin cots and a wash basin, along with a fireplace and two thin windows. Renly didn’t even look the room over and simply dropped his saddle bag on a bed before heading straight to the window, hat bushed off and placed on the mantel of the fireplace as he stared outside, forehead pressed against the cool glass. 

  Loras took his time sauntering over to the bed, letting Renly have his moment as he just stared, but soon enough he began to ask if he was alright, the grip he had on the curtain enough to pull it loose from its hanger should Renly jerk just a bit. Renly was tense and not doing much to hide it.

 “Are you positive?” he drawled out, going to unpack his saddlebag slowly, back to Renly as he mumbled another distracted ‘yeah’. Sighing, he ran a hand through his curls before setting to work, pulling out things he’d need or things that required airing out. He’d have to ask for some water for the wash basin so they could properly clean off, the river water from the mountains leaving Loras with a constant film on his skin. Finishing up he sat down on the bed, kicked his feet out, and collapsed backward on the small cot, stretching his tense stomach muscles out. “Are you hungry?”

 “No.”

 “Tired?”

 “No.”

 “Paranoid?”

 “N—… a bit.”

 “Come here.” Loras listened to Renly’s boots as they crossed the wooden floor, stopping just beside the bed, the ceiling displaying his shadow as he moved in the way of the light. The shadow grew smaller as the footsteps neared, and Loras nudged his knee to the side, trying to get Renly to lie down beside him. The mattress dipped then, and Loras could see Renly out of the corner of his eye, imitating his position, hands resting on his stomach and attention fixed on the ceiling. “You want to talk?”

 “Not really.”

 “Can I talk?”

 Renly nodded. Turning on to his side, Loras nuzzled Renly’s cheek gently, applying a sweet kiss to the corner of his jaw. “We didn’t have to come to this town if you didn’t want to. I mean, you made it pretty clear to me that you’re not at all comfortable about what happened around this area. It’s gotta be hard to confront your ghosts.”

 “It’s not that…” Renly began, still staring up at the ceiling. “I mean, they aren’t… never mind. I’m just tired.”

 Loras sighed, reaching out to pluck a stray piece of string from Renly’s shoulder. Rolling the string around, he tangled it up with the pads on his fingertips. “I know we said we’d go to the corner shop, but you can stay here and sleep if you’d like. Brienne and I will pick up whatever it is we need—maybe I’ll even get a treat for you.”

 Renly broke out into a smile just as Loras did, turning over to face him as he asked if he could pick him up a hard candy from one of the jars that corner shops always had against the wall behind the counter. “I could use something sweet,” he said afterward, trying to convince Loras, though it was not needed.

 “I’ll see what I can do,” he said, kissing him slowly, ignoring the sting from the cut as Renly deepened it, lips pressing hard together. Fingers found purchase in Loras’ curls soon enough, and he couldn’t help but move in closer, his arm wrapping around Renly’s waist, tugging him close so that their belt buckles knocked together. Sighing into the kiss, Loras nipped Renly’s lip teasingly, smiling as Renly moved to rest overtop him. His weight was reassuring and comfortable— that was, until he took a breath.

 Hissing, Loras quickly pushed Renly off, gasping as his stomach muscles constricted then relaxed. Immediately Renly was fussing over him, sitting up and looming over him as he popped the buttons of his shirt open to look at his stomach.

 “Jesus, Loras, you never told me it was this bad!” 

 “It’s not that bad,” he said, sitting up to do the buttons back up, slapping Renly’s hand away as he tried to touch it. “I’ve had far worse and you’ve never been this concerned. Bruises heal.”

 “Yeah but… I did that.”

 Sighing, Loras stopped buttoning his shirt up and cupped Renly’s cheek, rubbing behind his ear gently before smacking him upside the head. “Stop blaming yourself and take a nap,” he said, standing up to finish buttoning.

 Renly let out a puff of air and instantly rubbed the back of his head, hair sticking up awkwardly, pouting. “I can’t help it.”

 “Yes you can. Stop thinking about it and stop worrying about it. I’m fine, Renly—just a bruise that’ll go away soon. It’s ugly, to be sure, but since when did you like me only for my good looks.” Smirking, he bent down and kissed the top of Renly’s head. “I’ll be back in a bit. You sleep for a while—you need it.”

 Renly continued to grumble about Loras needed more sleep than he so he could recover, but Loras paid him little mind and headed to the door, grabbing some money and stuffing it in his back pocket as he opened the door. Brienne’s room was two doors down and to the left, and Loras arrived to see she was already done unpacking, her things neatly arranged in a rather military like fashion.

 “Did you know military men growing up?” he asked as they stepped out on to the main street, narrowly avoiding being run over by a mother with her three children running around out in front. The community was a busy one—busier than Loras had expected up in the mountains. But the wilderness of the unexplored Americas was becoming smaller and smaller it seemed. Loras wondered how long it’d be before all of America was its separate state, unified under one flag with little to no new discoveries and adventures to be had. He hoped it wasn’t for a while, but seeing this town prosper like it was, just reminded Loras of how quickly things were changing with the introduction of the railways.

 “No— why?” Brienne asked, tucking her hair back in a messy bun.

 “You just… never mind.” Waving her off, Loras crossed the street and headed to the shop they’d seen on their ride in, the door open, signally it was ready for business. Stepping inside Loras brushed past a group of men and approached the other side where cans of assorted food lined the wall. It seemed that it was a good farming season so far, the shop stocked full of items—some more expensive than others due to their location, but not too unreasonable. A woman stood behind the counter, long dark hair pulled up into a messy ponytail, her eyes trained on the two of them as they entered. Seen as a stranger in most places, Loras was used to being inspected, but there was no ice to the shopkeepers gaze, and soon enough she turned back to reading through a newspaper, leaving Brienne and Loras to freely peruse the goods.

 “We should probably pick up some—”

 “Are you a religious man, Loras?” Brienne cut in, her hand holding a can of preserves of some sort. She was looking at the can, but her attention was all on Loras.

 “Yes, I am… why?” he replied, eying her. He didn’t see how his religion had anything to do with canned food.

  It took a moment for Brienne to reply, seemingly trying to gather her thoughts as she toyed with the can. Voice a bit lower, she leaned in close, eyes skirting over to Loras for a moment. “I just… I know about you and Renly. I mean… I know you two… do things.”

 Loras held back the urge to roll his eyes and tell her she was a fool not to have seen it before. Instead he nodded, lips pursed a bit. “Yeah, I know. What of it? Do you have a problem with it?”

 “N-No, I just… no. I just… it’s not normal and I thought God…”

 “God loves us all, Brienne, and God promotes love. I love Renly very much, and I see no reason God would condemn our bond. If you have an issue with it, you should just leave us here because we’re not going to put up with that sort of outlook.”

 Brienne didn’t hesitate when she replied again. “No, I support you. I mean, I can’t say I understand, but… but you make Renly smile and he’s been good to me, so… I just… he’s important to me and I’m glad he has someone he loves.”

 Loras had a moment there—one that was long overdue and an oversight on his part. Brienne cared about Renly perhaps as much as he did. They may not have had the same bond nor for as long, but Brienne cared for him on a level that Renly craved from others, despite his fear of growing attached to anyone. After learning of Renly’s abandonment issues and low feelings of self-worth, to have another person who cared for Renly like Loras did must have been a relief to his partner. Brienne cared, and although Loras couldn’t say he liked the girl, he respected that.

 “Thank you, Brienne,” he said, giving her a little nod before returning his attention to the shelves. “So, uh, maybe we should—”

 Loras was interrupted for a second time that day. Shoulders squaring and eyes narrowing, he glared at the can of beans as a voice drifted over to them.

 “Is that a girl or a gorilla?”

 Loras turned around quicker than a rattlesnake, his hand rising to grasp the handle of his gun. Only he didn’t have his gun. _Fuck_. “What did you just say?” he asked, quirking a brow as he stared across the room at the three men who had been buying a shovel. They were staring at Brienne but seemed to notice Loras as he spoke, the shortest one smirking at him.

 “I asked if that was a girl—she’s awful large for a woman. You need to learn to keep your girl in line else you’ll have more bruises than you already do.”

 Loras was going to close the distance between the two, wanting to slam the man’s head into the wall and maybe use one of the shovels he was thinking of purchasing to seal his grisly fate, when Brienne’s hand shot out and rested on his shoulder, holding him back.

 “Don’t listen to him,” she mumbled, glaring at them all as they laughed. The shopkeeper was standing back from her newspaper, and Loras saw her reach under her counter for something. For the briefest of moments he thought she was going to pull out a shotgun, knowing all too intimately how quickly a shopkeeper could reach for the handle of a gun and point it right at you. Fear spiked through him, and he sucked in a breath just as she pulled out a large stick.

 It was a broom.

 “Yeah, listen to the _girl_ here. Looks like you already can’t handle yourself, boy, so I’d just keep walking,” another man said, his bushy moustache framing his smug grin.

 “So you just decide to mock a lady and then refuse to fight about it?” Loras began, raising his chin, peering down his nose at them. “Mighty strong of you—do you guys want medals or something? Someone to pat your back? Gonna go back down to the saloon and tell all you friends how you harassed a girl and then backed down from the confrontation that would no doubt ensue? You keep saying she’s a strong, massive girl—she must intimidate you boys.”

 They all bristled, hands going to their guns—guns that they had and Loras and Brienne did not. Once again he wondered what he was doing, instigating a fight with men who were armed. But Loras never was one for thinking things through fully. _Hesitation will get you killed—you got yourself into this, Loras, now act fast._

 “We need to just calm--”

Loras didn’t hear Brienne’s strong word of warning nor the shrill cry from the shopkeeper as he grabbed one of the glass jars and hurled it at the middle man, hitting him right on the head. Catching them off-guard seemed to have done the trick, the men lunging at Loras instead of taking their guns out, acting on physical instinct as they forgot their weaponry and went straight to the hitting.

 There was another cry from the shopkeeper as Loras dove out of the way of one flying fist, rolling on the ground to avoid them, standing up after the roll so that he ending up on the other side of the shop. Brienne had been pressed against the wall for a moment, a bit dazed, but he watched as she grabbed one of the men by the collar of his jacket and slammed her fist hard into his face. There was a crack, but Loras didn’t have time to really appreciate the beauty at which she struck as the man, with the bushy moustache fellow having grabbed him by the collar, swinging his fist around with little to no hesitation. Loras took the hit, head ringing a bit, but recovered quickly and slammed his knee in the man’s gut, giving him enough time to hit back, hand curling into a fist to connect to the side of his head, snapping it to the side. Cupping his jaw, he spit out a bit of blood and was about to hit the man again and knock him down, when his companion grabbed him and shoved him over the counter.

 Rolling over the table and landing awkwardly on his shoulder, he coughed, winded from the fall. Rolling over, he noticed through watering eyes the shopkeeper huddled under the counter, hair coming out of her ponytail, eyes wide and skin a bit pale. He didn’t have time to think before she had grabbed her broom and was batting Loras with it—striking him over the head and on the arms with the bristle end, the action more annoying than painful. Grabbing the stick he ripped it from her grasp and tossed it off to the side, stumbling as he tried to get up, dazed from the impact. The shopkeeper was not deterred however, and began tossing everything she had at him—a shoe brush, a box, a few old bottles—one of them almost connecting with his head. Instead it hit one of the glass candy jars behind him, knocking it to the ground with a loud smash. He had just enough time to get out of the way of the spray of glass as he stood up, wobbling a bit as the round candies spilled out on the ground all around them, coating the floor in bright colours.

 Brienne had managed to subdue one of the other men during Loras’ time under the counter, her arm locked tight around the shortest one’s neck, chocking him so he’d pass out, a trick Loras had never been big enough in stature to complete effectively. But the moustache man had turned on her, Brienne backing against the wall as she held tightly on to the short man, while the middle man who had taken the pickle jar to the head was rolling on the floor with what Loras assumed was a broken nose. Having only a second to react, Loras scooped up a bunch of the candies from the ground and threw them at the back of the mustache man’s head.

 The spray of candies caught the man’s attention, his head whipping around to glare at Loras. Loras went to vault over the counter when his foot landed on one of the candies, making him slip forward, and his chest hit the counter hard instead. Clutching the smooth edge he stayed upright and scrambled over the edge, kicking the man in the face with his boot as he did so. It was weak, however, and the man was coming back at him almost immediately, roaring as he shoved Loras hard against the wall. Once again Loras was winded, and pain spiked through his eye as a fist connected with it, a whimper slipping past his lips as he was hit again.  

_This is it,_ he thought, feeling his vision wavering as he was hit hard in the stomach _, I’m going to die in a brawl in a corner shop after I threw a pickle jar at a man’s head._

But just as the world started to go black and he thought the beating would never end, there was a crashed, followed by a reprieve from the constant assault. Opening his eyes, he stared up at the man, his face slack and eyes rolling up into his head. Whatever had happened had stopped him, and he watched with aw as the man collapsed on the ground, hitting the floorboards like a bag of potatoes.

 Loras had just enough time to realize that the shopkeeper was standing in front of him with a broken container of candy over her head, before the world went black.

XX

 Loras came to as he was dragged from the shop.

 Head bowed and shoulders held up by unseen hands, he stared down at the passing floorboards through one eye, as bleary and unfocused as it was. He couldn’t feel much save for the blinding pain behind his eyes and the scream of his stomach and back muscles, but other than that...

  _Where am I being taken?_ he wondered very briefly, before he was dragged through the muddy roadway. _When did things get so muddy?_ was his next thought, followed shortly by _Will someone please kill me?_ He tried to stand up as he was dragged, whoever was dragging him not being very gentle, but he couldn’t get his footing and flopped forward, dimly hearing voices over his head telling someone else to keep going. He took the order to heart and just stayed limp, preferring to be dragged no matter how degrading he knew it was. After all, it was hard to work up the strength to walk when he was still trying figure out what happened to half his face.

 Finally they were inside, Loras’ boots scraping against the boards of the wooden walkways before sliding against stone, the air cooler and the ground darker. They must have gone inside—else he’d just fallen in a hole or maybe gone to Hell. He didn’t have time to figure out what was going on before the weighty clunk of a metal lock sounded, followed shortly by the unmistakable sound of a heavy, barred door being pushed aside to reveal a place Loras had tried to avoid at all costs.

 Collapsing in the cell after being rudely pushed into it, Loras fell on his face, letting out a pitiful moan as his already swollen cheek collided with the ground. It was then that his face went numb. _Better late than never_ , he dumbly thought, just lying on the cold ground as another person was pushed into the cell. The door was closed right after, the heavy thud of the lock being jammed into place the final nail in Loras’ very painful and rather degrading coffin.

 “What are we doing to do?” Brienne’s voice broke through the steady sound of blood rushing through Loras’ head.

 “Wait until I can move,” he mumbled in response, cheek flat against the stone. It smelled… _clean_ inside the cell. The last time Loras had managed to be arrested was in some filthy cell just outside Little Rock, Arkansas. It smelled of piss and dirt and tobacco, and shit, too. But this one was clean—or at least he thought it was clean.

 Maybe he’d had his nose punched off.

 “Is my nose broken?” he asked, suddenly fearful for his nose. He liked his nose far too much to have it just _break_.

 “I, uh…” Brienne stopped her pacing to look down at Loras. “I can’t tell, roll over.”

 Loras slowly did as instructed, eyes closed as his head rolled on the floor. The pain was starting to come back.

 “It’s not broken, I don’t think. But your eye is swollen shut.”

  “Mm, anything else?”

 “Split lip, swollen cheek, uh… cut above your eyebrow. You look terrible if I am going to be honest.”

_Said the homely girl._ “Right… are we alone?”

 “For now. The deputy left—I think he’s getting the sheriff. Oh God, Tyrell, what are we going to do?”

 “We can’t do anything right now,” he said while slowly— _very_ slowly—sitting up. His head felt like it was going to roll off and hit the shit bucket in the corner, but he managed to resist the urge to vomit and rested his side against the wall. Cracking his good eye open, he finally looked at the room. Dark and cold, the room was your average jail cell. Black steel bars, an old cot in the corner, and a bucket to shit in. Outside the door sat a desk and a gun cabinet, the clock on the wall ticking by the minutes—slow and steady and consistent. There was only one light burning on the desk, the edges of the glass browning from years of use. “Renly will come looking for us soon enough.”

 “Are you sure?” she asked, still pacing back and forth. She loomed inside the cell, and Loras was grateful it was big enough.

 “No, he’s just going to take off and leave us to rot—it’s what he does,” he said, completely deadpan. Brienne stopped pacing then and stared at Loras, Loras deciding to stare at the brick wall dead ahead in return.

 “Now is not the time to joke, Tyrell.”

 Loras just shrugged. He was so numb he couldn’t give to shits what happened to him so long as he didn’t die with a swollen face. “What happened to the men we fought?”

 “You mean the men you goaded into fighting and then promptly left for me to fight?” she asked, voice shrill as she stared down at him. Loras just tried to ignore her best he could—after all, he only fought them because they’d been so rude to Brienne. She should have thanked him. Eventually Brienne gave up the pacing and sat down on the cot, running a hand through her now loose blonde locks. “They were taken off by another lawman. I don’t know where they went.”

 “Did you break that one man’s nose?”

 Loras saw through his one good eye Brienne crack a grin. “Yeah, I think I did.”

 “Good.”

  The door opened then, shedding a bright light inside the small space, making Loras squint as a man walked in. Tall and imposing, he strode in with purpose, the door slamming behind him with a loud smack, making Brienne jump and Loras wince, the sound shooting through his skull to burrow between his brows. When his eye adjusted once again to the darkness he regarded the man carefully as he tossed his hat down on the desk and sat. His little gold star glinting in the grimy light, telling Loras this was the head of the town and the man who had his fate in his hands. _He’s balding_ , was the first thing Loras noticed as he watched the light reflect off the top of his head, the sides still covered in dark black hair dispersed with grey and white like the ash from a cigarette. His beard was also cropped short, and piercing blue eyes stared at the desk, his heavy brow furrowed. Thin lips were pulled tight, and Loras could see his jaw working back and forth as he ground his teeth together.

 Something about the man made Loras a bit uncomfortable, his entire demeanour one of stone and… familiarity? He didn’t have time to stare any further as the man looked up and glared at him through the bars, making Loras suddenly become interested in the ceiling. He’d already gotten in one fight today—no need to further drag himself through the mud by staring down a lawman while in his jail cell.

 “Are you the two involved in the brawl Bronson’s corner shop?” His voice was tight and deep, weariness behind his words. He was tired and pissed. He sort of reminded Loras of the bulls at his old ranch, snorting and rolling their head from side to side, swinging their giant horns about as they stared down those who crossed their paths.

 Loras stayed silent as Brienne looked to him for guidance. Loras preferred not to speak to lawmen, just in case, and fiddled with the sleeve of his shirt idly, trying to act as relaxed as possible while in a cell with his face was half minced meat.

 “Yes we--” Brienne began when the door to the jail opened up once more, swinging so far back it hit the wall and immediately came back around. But whoever was at the door caught it before it swung back to hit him, broad palm sliding against it as he sauntered in, spurs jingling with every slow step. Immediately the sheriff stood, hand straying near his gun, the little gold star on his vest glittering in the sunlight as it shone through the open door. Peering in the light, Loras blinked a few times before the person came into sight.

 Renly.

 Trying to stand, he ignored the pain in his side as Renly kept the door open, attention fixed on the sheriff. Not paying much attention to the new, tense atmosphere, Loras just shimmied up the wall, glad to see Renly, when the sheriff spoke. His voice was tight—tense even—and there was enough shock in it to make Loras pause, shoulder pressed against the brick wall as he watched the exchange.

 “What are you doing here?” the sheriff asked, hand still hovering over the simple revolver at his hip.

 Renly shrugged, an easy smile on his lips. “Is that anyway to greet your little brother after all this time, Stannis?”


	29. Brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own them
> 
> Warnings: None
> 
> Authors Note: HELLO, STANNIS! He's finally arrived!

_Stannis?_

_This is Stannis? No, this can’t be Stannis. Renly said he… Renly said he went away… Renly said… where did Renly say he’d gone?_  Leaning against the wall Loras just stared, trying to comprehend what was going on, completely and utterly stunned. The shake of his legs as he tried to keep upright and not pass out was miles away, his attention focused completely on the two men before him.

_Stannis and Renly._

 Renly had never said where, exactly, Stannis had gone to. He’d just said he’d left an eventually never came back. But there had been a hint of avoidance in the way he spoke, and Loras now knew why. His brother was the sheriff—the head lawman in town. And a cold man at that. The look he sent Renly after his initial shock wasn’t one of neither fondness nor brotherly love.

 It was aggravation.

“You know your old age hasn’t stopped you from slowing down,” Renly drawled out.

 “What are you _doing_ here, Renly?” Stannis repeated, his jaw tight and eyes narrowed.

 “Always were one for getting straight to business,” Renly replied softly, smiling playfully as he let the door swing shut behind him. Walking further into the room he kept his eyes trained on Stannis, one foot swinging out in front of the other as he traversed the small space.

 “Renly…”

 “I’m here to pick up my partners.” Renly jerked his head to the side, attention still fixed on Stannis. Neither moved for a moment, both just staring at each other, Renly seemingly nonchalant about the entire affair, his classic lazy smile on his lips as he stood before his brother, fingers tucked under his belt. But Loras, even in the darkness of the room and through one eye that hadn’t swollen shut, could see the tension in Renly—as if any movement would cause him to bolt. But he was standing strong in a situation Loras couldn’t fully comprehend.

 Stannis grunted, his attention briefly flicking over to the cell. “I should have known that brawl was connected to you.”

 “Hey now, I had nothing to do with whatever happened,” Renly shot back, still acting casual despite the slight dip in his voice. “I’m just here to take my companions with me and get out of your hair. I’m sure you’ve got better people to waste this cell on.”

 “I don’t, because we’re not used to troublemakers coming in and ruining an innocent woman’s general store.” Stannis stayed standing, piercing blue eyes returning to Renly.

 “Well the way I see it, that physical brawl was probably the best situation that could have come from that. You could have had a gunfight on your hands which let me tell you, is a lot worse than a physical confrontation. But my partners here staved their guns and--”

 “We didn’t have guns,” Loras interjected, not really knowing why. He just thought he should say something, the way Stannis and Renly were just staring at each other a bit unnerving. He’d seen that look before only it was between two dogs fighting over a scrap of meat, neither willing to move but fully intent on getting whatever was left on that bone, be through bloodshed or one surrendering.

 It had the desired effect, though, both Stannis and Renly turning to peer at Loras through the gloom of the cell. Stannis quickly returned to the matter at hand, but Renly froze when he finally looked at Loras. Eyes going wide he held his hand up as Stannis began to speak, silencing him—something that surprised Loras.

 “What are you staring at?” Loras asked, shifting against the wall.

 “Did you just forget your face was like this? Jesus Christ what happened?”

 “A fight in a general store happened,” Stannis said loudly.

   Renly turned back around, eyes narrowing. “Yeah, well he shouldn’t be in this cell and neither should Brienne. They got into a fight, Stannis, and as much as you like to pretend I brought this sort of behaviour into the town, we both know that’s bullshit.” Finally Renly was getting agitated, his previous relaxed stance gone. Shoulders squared and chin raised, he glared at his brother. “You arrest people who get in fights at the saloon and let them sober up in your jail before letting them go—we both know that’s how it works. Considering they are not drunk and killed no one, you’ve got nothing to keep them here. Besides, you need this cell for someone who is an actual threat.”

 “You can’t just come in here and order me around,” Stannis replied, voice calm and level despite the low rumble beneath it all, belying his seemingly composed front.

 “I’m not ordering, I’m asking.”

 Once again the two just stared at each other, neither saying anything. Loras felt like he was going to black out soon, head weighing down on him and stomach muscles quivering so bad he thought something was trying to burst out. But Brienne was beside him, her strong hand wrapped tightly around his bicep, keeping him upright as she too watched the exchange.

 Finally Stannis was moving, his hand slowly reaching for the ring of keys on his belt. “I’ve got my men keeping an eye on all three of you, now,” he said as he went to open the door, Renly getting out of his way, both looking stiff now that the desk was not between them. Loras watched as the lock was removed and the door slid back, Renly immediately hurrying in to wrap his arms around Loras, keeping him upright. “You three so much as step out of line--”

 “You’ll throw us back in here—I’ve heard it before,” Renly said, touching Loras’ bruised eye, Loras hissing and batting his hand away as he did so. Turning around, Loras let Renly support him as they left the jail, Stannis standing off to the side, his icy gaze locked on them. “We won’t cause any trouble, Stannis.”

 “You’ve said that before,” Stannis mumbled, Brienne opening the door for them. Stepping out into the clear air and bright light, Loras squeezed his good eye shut, the light hurting his head as they stumble further forward. Just as they were out, however, Stannis voice drifted over to them, Renly stiffening. “I’m only doing this because you are my brother, Renly. Do not count on my mercy to extend past this.”

XX

 Loras collapsed on one of the cots, hitting the thin mattress, the squeak of the springs going along with the loud groan that slipped past his lips. Rolling on to his back, he ignored Renly and Brienne as they fluttered about, head ringing from the slow walk to the hotel and up the stairs. Moving was what really hurt—if he could just stay still—

 Renly sat down on the bed beside him, causing the bed springs to move about, making Loras want to kill Renly.

 “Can you ask one of the hotel staff to bring us some hot water and a towel?” Renly asked, Brienne’s footsteps the only indication to Loras she’d done as asked. Opening his good eye, he started up at Renly, watching his head swim around, his eye watering a bit.

 “I feel like shit.”

 “You look like shit.”

 “It was for a good cause.”

 “What were you doing getting into a fight in a store?” Brienne appeared again in that instant, a maid following closely behind, a pitcher of steaming water in hand. The maid took one look at Loras and paled, her eyes wide. Loras wanted to hide his face.

 “Someone was making rude remarks toward me and Tyrell threw a pickle jar at his head,” Brienne said, Renly asking the maid to set the pitcher down on the bedside table. She did as instructed and left Renly with the wash towel before scuttling out, looking over her shoulder one last time, a gasp following her out of the room. “He was being stupid,” Brienne continued as soon as the woman had left.

 “Yeah, he has a tendency to do that,” Renly mumbled, dipping the towel into the water.

  _They’re talking like I’m not even here_ , Loras thought, glaring up at Renly as Brienne continued to hover.

 “They deserved it,” Loras replied, wincing as his split lip broke open again. There seemed to be no end to the injuries on his face, and Loras was becoming more and more afraid of what he’d see in the mirror. He rather liked his face and he was quiet certain Renly was fond of it, too.

 “Yeah, just like everyone else you go all chivalrous on,” Renly said, pressing the heated cloth against Loras’ forehead, right above the supposed cut that Brienne had mentioned. It stung, but not as much as getting the injury had. Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t complain.

 “You’re hurting me,” he mumbled, Renly shaking his head, a little smile on his lips.

 “Sorry, Little Rose, but I’d like to see your pretty little face under all this blood and dirt.”

 Brienne coughed off to the side. “I think I’m going to go lie down for a bit,” she said loudly, interrupting Renly as he began to tenderly care for Loras, petting his hair as he cleaned his face off.

 Glancing over his shoulder, Renly seemed surprised, as if he forgot Brienne was there. “Alright… uh, just a second.” Draping the cloth across the top of the pitcher to keep the steam in, Renly pulled Brienne off to the side, the two whispering for a bit, Loras having given up on trying to eavesdrop in favour of dosing. The pounding in his head had begun to subside, but the wounds on his face were starting to hurt more now that Renly was poking at them. Grimacing, he purposely pulled the muscles on his face tight, trying to see if he could feel where the wounds were and paint himself a mental picture of what he looked like.

 It just ended up making him ache more.

 Soon enough Renly was back, dipping the cloth back in, the door to their room closing as Brienne left.

 “What was that about?” Loras asked, wincing as Renly dabbed the cut on his lip.

 “Just telling her to be careful and if she goes out to talk to us first—just to let us know where she’s going. Now that we’ve got the lawmen watching us we’ve got to be extra careful. Our names weren’t known up here, but you made quick work of alerting everyone to our presence.”

 Renly didn’t sound angry, just tired, which made Loras feel worse if at all possible. “Brienne tried to stop me… if that helps. I mean, it was my fault.”

 “I know it was which is why I’m not as upset about you getting your face beat in like I normally would be. I’m just glad Brienne wasn’t hurt because you couldn’t help but further a confrontation.”

 “How did she get out of it so unscathed?” Loras wondered aloud, Renly snorting afterward.

 “Because she’s larger and more powerful than you are, and don’t you deny it,” he said, interrupting Loras just as he was trying to deny it.

 Both fell silent after that, Renly carefully cleaning off Loras’ cuts and scrapes, being extra careful around his eye that he still couldn’t see out of. Renly’s little hisses now and again told Loras it wasn’t a pretty sight, but the fact that Renly wasn’t gagging nor ready to collapse at any moment told him it couldn’t be _that_ bad. But most of the pain wasn’t even registering with Loras as he thought about what had happened in the jail cell.

 “So that was Stannis,” Loras mumbled after a time, Renly having carefully helped Loras out of his shirt so he could poke his stomach bruises. Renly poked a little harder when he mentioned Stannis.

 “That was Stannis,” he replied eventually, deciding to wash all of Loras while he had him half naked, the warm cloth sliding against his chest and arms.

 “You never told me he was still around here.”

 Renly shrugged. “I wasn’t sure he would be.”

 “You also didn’t tell me he was a sheriff.”

 “He was a deputy when I left and arrived in the town. I didn’t stay long and he didn’t see me. He left me—I didn’t want to make things awkward for him by reminding him he’d just abandoned his little brother to rot up in the mountains.”

 Loras was afraid that Renly was going to suppress what he was feeling once more, but the very real emotion in his words as he went on about Stannis quelled those fears. Clearly Renly did not feel like closing off how he really felt.

 “How did it feel to see him again?” Loras wondered, Renly going to undo his belt, the click of the belt buckle the only sound in the room as Renly avoided looking him in the eyes.

 “Terrible if I’m going to be honest with you,” he finally said, standing to divest Loras of his boots, socks and pants. Once he was completely naked Renly continued to wash him. “I’d rather not talk about it, Little Rose.”

  _And that is that_. Sighing he closed his eye, raising his hand to rest it across his forehead, curls pushed back. Renly would talk to him about it further later on—when they were both ready for it. Loras was a mess physically and Renly was the same mentally; to try and come up with anything in the states they were in would have been foolish.

_Almost as foolish as throwing a pickle jar at someone’s head._

Loras had almost fallen asleep when he felt Renly’s hand on his prick, fingers curling around the shaft as he began stoking it gently. Opening his eye, he stared down his body, watching Renly work him, the evening sun setting on them, casting Renly in oranges and reds. “What are you doing?” he asked, pleasure sliding through him—it was a rather nice change from the pain he’d been feeling all day.

 “Checking to see if they broke you dick,” Renly said, smirking as he kept up the lazy stroking, Loras getting harder, “So far it looks okay, but I need to be sure, you know?”

 “I c-can’t believe you want to get me off when I look like this.”

  “You look… well you look like shit. But your penis on the other hand…” Renly moved down and flicked his tongue against the head a few times, hand stilling, bracing the base to keep his still semi-hard cock erect. But the press of his tongue against the slit made him fully erect soon enough, the teasing working him into a heightened state of arousal. Trying to relax, he let out a little moan as Renly took the tip fully into his mouth, his hand resuming the stroking.

 Watching him, Loras reached up and tangled his fingers in Renly’s bound hair, pulling out black locks as Renly began to use his mouth fully, bobbing up and down, cheek pressing against his glands, making him feel _so good_ he momentarily forgot he was bruised and cut all over. Resisting the urge to thrust upward (mostly because he knew it’d hurt but also because he loathed to choke Renly), his hand dropped from his head and found purchase on the bed, squeezing down on the mattress as he was worked, Renly’s tongue and lips running all over—up and down, to the side, back and forth. It didn’t take long before Loras was coming, panting Renly’s name out, riding the waves of pleasure for all they were worth. Once he’d come down from his high the ache returned, but it was accompanied by an afterglow and drowsiness. Manageable—all of it was manageable now.

 “I should get hurt more often,” he mumbled as Renly came into focus, head hovering above his. His lips were pink and swollen, spit clinging to them, and he couldn’t help but go in for a kiss no matter how much it hurt. When they parted he smiled lazily up at him. “Thank you.”

 “Mm, you’re welcome. But if we’re going to be giving sexual favours anytime we get hurt, I think you owe me for that bullet wound I got a year ago. I think I at least deserve for you to show me your riding skills.”

 Loras chuckled softly, followed by a cough, his stomach tightening. “Are you cashing in your credit?”

 Renly shrugged. “When you’re better I will be. For now, though, you get some sleep.” Reaching across the bed Renly grabbed the blanket and draped it over Loras’ body. Leaning down he kissed his forehead gently. “See you in the morning.”

 “You’re not going to stay?” he asked, already falling asleep.

 “I’ll be back in a bit. I just… I need some fresh air.”

 Loras was asleep by the time Renly finished his sentence.

XX

 “God have mercy upon my face.”

 Loras had seen some bruises in his lifetime. The worst he’d ever seen was when Garlan had been cornered in the cattle pen and was almost gored by an angry bull. Luckily for Garlan, the bull had slipped on the mud and slammed him into the side of the fence with his rump. He wasn’t sliced open, but the bruise that spread across his hip and thigh was nasty. Dark and purple, it looked more like a plum before it went yellow and blue and black, as if his skin was rotting off. But that had been on his hip—easily hidden away and forgotten after a time, walking only a discomfort for a day before he was back in form.

 It wasn’t on his _face_.

 His eye was still swollen shut when he’d woken in the morning, and his entire body ached, leaving him little choice but to wake Renly to make sure if he was still alive. Renly had opted to sleep on the other bed, wanting to give Loras his space, and so Loras was reduced to getting out of his bed to shake him awake, a bit relieved when his eyes opened and recognition blossomed across his tired face. But that look of recognition was replaced by a frown, and Loras was finally pushed to the edge—he had to see his face.

 And what a sight it was. 

 Sitting in front of an old mirror that Renly had snatched from the hallway outside, Loras couldn’t help but stare in abject horror at what he was seeing. His left eye was swollen shut, red and pink and purple splotches all over his skin, going almost black near the corner of his eye closest to his nose. His lip had a nasty cut across it, and above his right eyebrow was a cut that had bruised along the sides, tender to the touch and a bit itchy. His jaw was blue, his cheek was swollen, and Loras swore he looked a bit like a chipmunk.

 “It’s not that bad,” Renly said from behind him.

 Looking over his shoulder, Loras tried his best to glare at him while half his face was swollen. “Not that bad? You can’t even tell I’m human!”

 Renly shrugged, opening one of the windows to let fresh air in. He quickly counter-acted such an effort by lighting a smoke. “It’ll fade soon, and you’ll be back to your pretty self again.”

 “I’m not pretty—I’m handsome,” Loras replied, the smoke curling around Renly’s head as he lounged near the window.

 “Fine, fine, you’ll be back to your handsome self again,” he corrected, smiling a bit. Pushing away from the wall, he went to stand behind Loras, bending down to rest his chin on his shoulder. Staring at the two of them in the mirror, Loras was reminded of just how bad it was, but the kiss Renly was placing on his cheek (the none-chipmunk one) soothed a bit of his worries. At least he wasn’t completely grotesque to Renly.

 “I can’t go out looking like this,” he said as soon as Renly pulled away to continue lounging in the room. He seemed only mildly interested in Loras’ crisis, which annoyed Loras more than it ought to. “Renly—this is important!”

 Renly hummed and pulled his gaze away from the window once more, brow arched high. “I doubt anyone would be judging you if you walked out there. Just wear your hat low. Besides, most people already know who you are and what you did.”

 “How do you know that?”

 “Word spreads fast around here. I went down to the local saloon after you fell asleep and gleaned from information from the folks around here.” Sitting down on a creaky wooden chair, Renly crossed one ankle over the other and puffed a giant plume of smoke into the air. “They told me that a few of the ‘Tennor’ boys got into a scuffle in the General Store with a man who looked like he’d already been in a fight, and a large woman.”

 “Sounds like us.”

 “Not many gentlemen with scarred faces and women larger than most men walking around, no. In any case, you’re the talk of the town, as is Brienne, which means we’ve gotta keep a low profile from now on. No need to incur the ire of… well, you know.”

  _Stannis_. Loras had forgotten completely about the exchange in the jail. “Did you go… I mean, did you talk to your brother yesterday afterward?”

 Renly shook his head, suddenly tense. Snuffing the cigarette out on the chair, he crossed his arms over his chest and resumed staring out the window, jaw clenching. “I’d rather not talk to him.”

 “He seemed willing to talk to you when you arrived.”

 Renly snorted. “No, he just wanted me out of there. He’s too bitter to want to talk to me. He thinks I fucked up somehow by becoming an outlaw—as if I had a choice.”

 _You did have a choice. Not a very good choice either way, but you still had one. We all did._ “What did he expect you to do?”

 “I don’t know… never asked,” Renly shrugged and scratched his nose, trying to act casual. But every movement seemed planned, belying the casual act he was trying to put on. It seemed his mask had been getting more cracked the last few days, Loras easily seeing past the desperate attempts to hide his feelings and past. “I saw him once after I came down from the mountains. Briefly. I was… I was a bit in shock at seeing him so well to do, you know? He had his nice clothes and his nice horse and his nice job. He was a deputy and close to becoming a sheriff—a real lawman. An upstanding, upright citizen… at the expensive of me, of course.”

 “So you left?”

 “I left without even talking to him. I ran off down the street and away from him, and immediately left the town…” Sighing, Renly fiddled with the butt end of his cigarette, all bent and twisted, still staring out the window. “When I first arrived I wanted to confront Stannis and… a part of me wanted to ask him for his help. But when I saw him I just got furious and—and bitter. I didn’t want his help and I didn’t need it. Seeing that little badge he had on just made me so _angry_. I guess maybe part of the reason I took a life of thievery and stealing was because of Stannis… because I was angry.”

 Renly stopped talking then, slumping in his chair, head turned away from the window. Sighing, Loras stood up slowly, his stomach protesting the movement, and went to kiss the top of Renly’s head, his arm draping around his shoulder as Renly’s arms wrapped around his waist, hugging him close. Ignoring how Renly pressed against his bruise, he stroked his hair, running his fingers through the slightly tangled locks. “You should cut you hair…”

 “Why?”

 “It’s getting too long.”

  “I thought you liked it.”

 “I do, but not too long… just a trim. Cut a bit off and grow it out again.”

 Renly was silent, Loras just petting him gently, staring out the window Renly seemed so intent on focusing on.

 “Tomorrow… tomorrow I want to go up to the old cabin… and I want you to come with me,” Renly murmured. Pulling away slightly, Loras looked down at Renly, twirling one of the shorter hairs that framed his face around his finger.

 “Are you sure?” he asked, noticing the hesitation in Renly’s gaze. It was gone as quick as it had come, however.

 Nodding, Renly smiled up at Loras. “I think it’s time I cut some of this weight off, don’t you?”


	30. Cabin of my Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own them
> 
> Warning: MalexMale sex
> 
> Authors Note: More closure for Renly... or is it?

 Renly had granted Loras one day of hiding, but demanded that they go outside the next day. Loras had tried to argue his way out of it, stating that Renly was more than welcome to go out and explore by his lonesome while he continued to hide his ghoulish face, but Renly was having none of it. He kept trying to tell Loras it really wasn’t that bad, but Loras didn’t believe him. It wasn’t just how hideous he looked—it was what the bruises represented. He’d been bested by some town boys who were known for picking fights with strangers.

 Loras was ‘The Rose’ down south, his name synonymous with victorious duels and well-crafted heists. He was not a man to be trifled with, despite his slighter stature and youth. But here, not a day in a new location, and he’d already been beaten to a bloody pulp in a general store next to a woman he couldn’t stand because he felt a need to defend the honour of said woman he apparently could not stand. He wasn’t known as ‘The Rose’ up north—now he was known as that kid who tossed pickle jars at people. He knew he was being foolish and he knew he needed to suck it up, and pull the stitches out quick rather than slow in order to ease the pain, but he couldn’t find it in himself to do it.

 Luckily Renly had no issue with that.

 “We’re going for a ride, it’s early morning so no one will see you, and your eye is already open!” Renly declared cheerily as he shook Loras awake. Peering up at him from his cot, he glowered before he realized that his eye _was_ open. Touching it gently, he thought maybe yesterday had been a dream, but when he felt the puckered, tender skin, he realized that God wasn’t that kind to those who made such stupid mistakes. Sighing, he sat up slowly, pushing away a deck of cards, the remainder of a night of drinking and card playing with Brienne and Renly in the stuffy room.

 “Are we going up to the old cabin?” Loras asked, reaching for his pants, shaking them out a bit.

 Renly lost his cheery smile—Loras was a bit pleased about that, despite his better judgement. “Yeah, we are,” he said, this time more subdued. “I asked Brienne to find something to do in the town; I don’t think she should come for this.”

 “But I should?” he asked, pulling his pants on, cringing as his stomach muscles flexed.

 Renly sent him a condescending look and reached out to do his belt buckle up, a change from his usual action in which he was usually undoing it. “Of course I want you to come—did you expect me to do this alone?”

 “I don’t know, I just wanted to make sure… I’m pleased I get to go and Brienne doesn’t.” He grinned then—his first smile in a day, and took Renly’s hands in his own. “Makes a man feel special.”

 “It should—I haven’t shared any of this information with anyone. I mean, I let little bits slip here and there, like to Ygritte and Greyjoy, but they don’t know the full story. Not like you do.” Renly’s hands turned around in Loras’, fingertips brushing against the palm of his hand gently. “This is… this is going to be hard.”

 Loras shrugged. “Since when did I ever take the easy route?” he asked, taking Renly into his arms. “It’ll be fine—it’s just an old cabin, nothing more or less. Whatever happened there is in the past. Me, right here in your arms, is the real thing—the thing that matters.”

 “Is this your subtle way of saying you’re the only thing that matters in the world?” Renly murmured, a ghost of a smile pressed against Loras’ bare shoulder.

 “Maybe…” he replied, pulling away to kiss Renly quickly. “We better get ready before the sun rises too high and people see my face. Do you think I could use my hair to cover my face?”

 “Yeah, if you want to look even stranger,” Renly said, tugging a curled lock playfully. “You look fine, Little Rose, if you do anything it’ll just draw attention to the bruises and cuts. Just wear your hat and hair like you always do. I know a thing or two about dealing with monumental face bruises after getting my ass kicked several thousand times—trust me on this. Just ignore it and everyone else will, too.”

 Loras took Renly’s advice and dressed normally, trying his hardest not to peer at himself in the stolen hallway mirror, intent on believing he didn’t look like a cow patty. It was difficult, but Renly’s nerves were enough to distract Loras from his own (lesser) troubles. Renly was moving about the room, picking his hat up and putting it on before tossing it off to run his fingers through his hair. He’d then light a smoke, take a few drags, then pass it to Loras, no longer interested in finishing it. Loras had seen Renly a bit nervous before, but never like this. It seemed the thought of seeing the cabin scared him more than confronting Stannis, but maybe it was just because he could prepare for this. The Stannis confrontation had been brought on by Loras with little time to think and instead just _do_.

 Eventually Loras was ready, and the two stepped out into the early morning light, putting their hats on at the same time as they trudged down to the barns to retrieve their horses. As soon as they were on the road and away from the town of Emerald, Loras took a deep breath of the mountain air, willing to admit that being cooped up in that room all yesterday was a bad idea—he already missed the smell of pine and dirt. Renly didn’t say much as they traveled up a small trail. Bits of the path were only wide enough for the horses to go through one at a time, and low lying branches hovered above the trail, making for rough terrain the further they traveled down the path. The sun was rising higher in the sky the further they went, casting the forest floor in a dapple of greys and whites, the sun peeking through the canopy above.

 Loras started to just enjoy the ride, trying not to think about the oppressive silence nor the tension that seemed to come off of Renly like waves. Breathing in the mountain air and cherishing the fact that he could see through both eyes, he swayed gently back and forth atop Ricochet, the beast also seemingly enjoying the slow pace.

 Renly had said it would take most of the afternoon to reach the cabin, and they didn’t see the outline of the place sitting in a small clearing until the sun had begun to set, the sky still bright but waning. The cabin looked small from a distance, Loras only seeing peeks of it through the birch and spruce trees that surrounded it, but as they drew closer the mass of it came to fruition. It looked as if it could easily hold a family of six, the large wooden logs a bit weathered by time and stress, dark and covered in grime near the bottom where rain hit to spatter up dirt. There was a large antler rack from a stag up above the door, but it had long since tilted to the side, creating a dilapidated appearance to what was once no doubt a proud standing building. The roof was still mostly intact, but a bit of it had sunk in near the back, letting rain and snow and other things inside.

 Stopping just inside the ring of trees that surrounded the place, the two just stared, Loras inspecting it with a critical eye while Renly no doubt tried his best to just keep it together. This place represented all of Renly’s past fears and troubling thoughts. It represented the place he’d run away from so long ago—a place he promised himself he’d never return. But they both knew well enough now that running away from your past was a good way to get yourself killed, or at the very least, go insane. You had to face it head on, no matter how terrifying it may be.

 Loras hoped one day he’d be strong enough to do the same.

 “Did you want to—” Renly sliding off his horse cut Loras off, his movement smooth and in control, but his attention fixated on the cabin before him. Doing the same, Loras hopped of and tethered his horse to a nearby tree, following Renly into the grove.

 The sun was warm on their backs as they traveled further into the clearing, long, sparse grass going up to their knees, little flowers white in colour sprinkled about the area. It would have been a peaceful place had the cabin not loomed over them, Renly’s eyes narrowing as they neared. Loras didn’t know what to say or do as they stood in front of the old home, the sun high enough that it shone directly overtop the stag horns, casting Renly in a strange shadow. 

_If that isn’t symbolic I don’t know what is_ , Loras thought, glancing down at Renly’s antler belt buckle. Apparently his family had an affinity for stags. Loras would ask about it later.

 Renly didn’t stay long standing in front of the cabin, moving off to walk along the side toward the back, Loras trailing behind silently, letting Renly do what he had to do as they explored the space he once knew so well. Turning the corner, Loras almost ran into the back of Renly, Renly having stopped to stare at the pile of rocks before them.

 Cressen’s shallow grave.

 Hanging back, he gave Renly his space, watching him as he went to stand near the pile of stones that had managed to stand the test of time. They had been carefully placed over the body, piled accordingly—a painstaking process, especially for such a young boy. Loras couldn’t imagine what it’d have been like to have had to bury Daisy when he was only twelve years old, let alone another man—a fellow human being who helped to raise you.

 “Looks like I did a better job than I thought I did,” Renly said. His voice was soft and yet so loud. Taking that as his queue to step forward, he went to stand beside Renly, the two staring at the pile.

 “You did—it held up,” he agreed. He wasn’t sure if Cressen would be proud of Renly now, and so he just stayed quiet, figuring silence was better than a lie or the guess at a truth. He didn’t know the man, and Renly didn’t seem too keen on sharing much more other than his love for Stannis and his support of all three of them growing up.

 Renly nodded and pushed a rock back against the edge of the pile with the toe of his boot. “Cressen was a religious man, but I never knew what to say or how to pray for him. Would you mind… would you mind doing that for him now?”

 “Of course,” Loras said, taking out his cross from his pocket. “Father of all; we pray for those whom we love but see no longer. Grant them your peace; let light perpetual shine upon them; and in your loving wisdom and almighty power work in them the good purpose of your perfect will; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”

Renly turned around and continued his exploration immediately after he’d finished his pray, a mumbled ‘amen’ under his breath as he passed by. Sighing, Loras put his cross away and followed Renly once more, the two of them walking around the perimeter of the place until they were back at the door. A few of the windows were broken, and the sunken in ceiling was that much more noticeable from the back, but it was still standing—a testament to the Baratheon craftsmen.

 “Do you think anyone lived in here after?” Loras asked, resisting the urge to scratch the cut on his forehead that was stinging a bit.

 “Probably—it was left in alright condition.” Shrugging, Renly stepped forward, hand bracing on the door. He hesitated then, fingertips going white as he stared at the door, making no move to it open. It wasn’t until Loras reached out to gently touch his shoulder that he reacted, pushing the door open with confidence.

 Stale air wafted out of the dark room, Loras nose scrunching as a cloud of dust came out, tickling his nose and eyes. Renly didn’t seem fazed by it, or if he was he didn’t show it. _He just wanted to get this over with._ Renly stepped in first, what little light the open door offered casting him in a dim light, most of his body hidden by shadows. Pushing the door further against the outside wall, Loras made sure it would hang open before following, stepping out of the way of the beam of light to let more of it in.

 It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness, but when they did he noticed that it was a simple one room cabin with a loft—nothing too fancy about it, really. There was an old table in the middle of the room and a fireplace to the right, covered in cobwebs from years of disuse. Cabinets lined the wall by the fireplace, and an old frying pan rested on top of a side table, rusted and looking like it’d fall apart if you touched it. Off to the side lay the remains of an old bed that had had its mattress eaten away long ago, a chair that was standing strong, and a bedside table that had once been covered in papers, but had long since been destroyed with the passing of time. And up above laid the loft, the ladder still resting against the railing, easily accessible were it not for the caved in roof at the corner.

 Renly was meandering about the cabin, ignoring Loras as he rubbed his nose, the dust making him itch all over as it fluttered around them. Moving further into the room, he began to notice the signs of animal activity, scat in the corners of the room as well as scratch marks all over the wooden floors and in the corners. Prodding the fry pan, it shifted to the side, scraping against the counter, Renly’s footsteps pausing as the sound carried through the silence, then resumed shortly afterward, his footfalls slow and paced as he wandered around the room behind Loras.

 Leaving the pan alone, Loras went over to the large fireplace, reaching out to touch it, half expecting the stones to be warm from a fire. It was cool to a touch. Sighing, he walked along the fireplace, not really thinking about much, not wanting to imagine what this cabin must have felt like to grow up in with a family that was falling apart. As he came to the end of the hearth he paused, a little shape at the end of the mantel piece catching his eye. Quirking a brow, he blew away the dust that covered it, smiling as a little knight was revealed to him.

 Plucking the toy up, he brushed the rest of the dust away, finding it still shimmered like Renly had said it did when he was a kid. There were little notches taken out of the wood from vigorous playing, but it was still intact, no rotting like Loras had expected there would be. It had been a well-loved toy.

 There was a crash behind him.

 Jumping, Loras whipped around, his hand tightening around the toy as he stared across the way at the window, shards of glass reflecting off the floor, the remnants of the window jagged along the edges were the glass refused to break free. Turning he regarded Renly as he stared across the way, chest heaving. The frying pan was missing.

 “Renly, are you—”

 Renly grabbed hold of the small table next to him and tossed it across the room, the old rotting wood splintering as it hit the wall, sending wooden shards everywhere. Jumping again, Loras shifted off to the side as Renly made way for the large wooden table in the center of the room, flipping it over, his boot colliding with the underside, kicking it as soon as it was resting on its side. The bed was next, Renly smashing the table beside it before breaking the slats on the bottom of the bed, stepping on them hard. He made no noise as he mindlessly destroyed the place further, but Loras could _feel_ the screams of agony, such rage and frustrations radiating off of him like a bonfire. Clutching the knight he just stood off to the side, watching and waiting for Renly to finish, understanding well enough the desire to just destroy the things around you.

 He was just glad it wasn’t him this time.

 The fury that seemed to engulf Renly stopped as soon as it had come. With the last bit if furniture broken Renly stilled, chest heaving as he stared down at the wreckage of the bed. Pulling his hat off, he ran a hand through his loosely tied hair, then wiped the back of his hand against his forehead. Taking another deep breath that seemed to rattle his entire frame, he shoved his hat back on and stormed out of the cabin, not even looking at Loras.

 Following him out, Loras tried to catch up to him as he trudged through the field heading toward the horses. “Renly! Renly, will you just hold on a minute? Renly!” Catching up to him, Loras caught his arm and pulled him back. Swivelling around, for a split second Loras thought Renly was going to hit him again, memories from their last confrontation still fresh in his mind, but Renly did not raise his fist and instead turned to look at Loras, eyes brimming with tears.

 “What?” he said through tight lips as he desperately tried to stop the emotions from getting out.

  _Too late for that,_ Loras thought. Reaching out he cupped Renly’s cheek, Renly’s gaze darting away from his, bottom lip pressing out as he continued his fruitless attempt at keeping the tears in. “Renly…” He didn’t know what to say after that. An ‘ _Are you alright’_ just wasn’t going to cut it. Just as Renly looked ready to turn around, however, Loras remembered the toy in his hand. Lifting it up, he smiled slightly, showing off the little knight to Renly. “I found this by the fireplace.”

 Renly’s eyes grew wide, his lips parting as a small breath of air blew out, brushing against Loras’ lips. Reaching out he gently plucked the toy from Loras’ grasps, blue eyes locked on the figure in his hands. Turning it around he admired it from every angle, lips still parted and eyes still wide as he relived what Loras hoped was a positive moment—a happy one amidst all the gloom.

 “I never thought I’d see this thing again,” Renly whispered, finger touching the point of the sword. “I thought—I mean, I knew I’d lost it when I ran off without it. I couldn’t bear going back to the cabin so I just kept going even though I knew I’d forgotten it.”

 “It’s probably for the best you left it—knowing what you’ve been through all these years I wouldn’t be surprised if it got crushed at some point because you’re such a clumsy ass.”

 Renly snorted and broke out into a small smile. That was when the tears came. Slowly sliding down his cheeks, Renly made no move to brush them away and instead stuffed the knight in his leather pouch at his hip. Unable to resist, Loras reached out to brush one of the tears away, Renly tilting his head into the touch.

 “I’m sorry I broke everything,” he mumbled.

 “It’s fine; it’s your place anyways. I have begun to question your housekeeping skills, however. My mother would be shocked at how much dust is in that place.” Hearing Renly laugh, no matter how weak it may have been, was like music to Loras’ ears. Brushing his hat off, he ducked under the rim of Renly’s to capture his lips in a kiss, a little wet from tears but no less appealing.

 “I just want to get away from here, and yet I don’t want to leave,” Renly said when they broke apart. Glancing over Loras’ shoulder, he let out another sigh as he stared at the cabin, eyes narrowing slightly. “It has such god awful memories, and yet… and yet it’s still comforting, as strange as that sounds.”

 “That doesn’t sound strange to me,” Loras said. “It was your home for a long time and I am sure you have some good memories, too.”

 “A few,” he said. He was still staring at the cabin, and the tension was rising once more. Stepping into his view, Loras blocked Renly from staring at the house and instead caught him in another kiss, trying to keep him distracted. It seemed to work, Renly’s lips parting as they embraced in the clearing, the sound of the wind through the leaves of the trees and the chirp of birds aiding in Loras’ attempt to soothe Renly. Taking Renly’s hat off without breaking the kiss, he ran his fingers through his hair, Renly moaning softly as the skin behind his ear was rubbed gently. Breaking the kiss, Renly went to gently touch the cut on Loras’ lip, frowning.

 “Does it hurt?”

 “Don’t worry about me,” Loras said, kissing the pad of Renly’s thumb. “Let me take you away from here for a bit?” Renly didn’t hesitate, moving in for another kiss, this time deeper as he pressed up against him, Loras’ arms automatically wrapping around his waist, fingers tangling in his curls as they became lost in each other.

 Soon enough they were on the ground, the tall grass shielding them from view, lips pressed together and tongues teasing outward to rub and slide against each other’s own. Ducking his head down, Loras kissed along Renly’s neck, tongue licking a stripe up toward his ear, tasting the salt on his skin and feeling the his pulse against his lips. Renly shuddered under him, fingers holding on to his shirt tightly, head tilted to the side as Loras sucked on his earlobe.

 Loras stomach hurt a bit as he pressed against Renly on the ground, but he brushed aside all discomfort in favour of taking Renly away like just like he said he would. Sitting up he began to take Renly’s shirt off, making quick work of the buttons, admiring Renly as he lay on the grass, the setting sun basking him in a warm glow, shadows from the tall grass casting patterns over his eyes and across his lips and cheeks. Opening his shirt he shifted back on Renly’s thighs as he sat up and shrugged the garment off the rest of the way, moving in for a deep kiss as he did so, the hunger growing between them.

 For a time Loras felt as if Renly wasn’t fully there with him, attention waning as he took his own shirt off. But as soon as he’d pulled him in for a deep kiss, hands cupping the side of his face, holding him in place as he poured out all his energy into the embrace, Renly was with him, his hands on his back sure and steady and strong. He held on to Loras like a lifeline, the two of them just kissing and feeling each other, Loras pushing past the pain in his stomach and on his lip as Renly began to grow more needy, hands grabbing, lips pressing and teeth biting.

 Pushing Renly back on to the ground he kissed across his collarbone and along his chest, nuzzling the soft skin that stretched across strong muscles. He began to undo his belt buckle, intent on getting Renly completely undressed while ignoring the warning in his head that told him it was dangerous to lose all inhibitions in the middle of the woods at dusk. But nothing mattered but Renly in that moment and he proceeded with divesting the two of them of their clothes. As soon as they were both naked goosebumps spread across their skin, and Loras wasn’t quite sure if it was because of the cold or something else.

 Grinding their hips together they withered on the grass, a tangle of long limbs and grabbing hands, gasps of pleasure and trailing tongues. Loras kissed Renly all over—on his forehead and atop each eyelid, on his cheeks and his lips, his neck and his collarbone. Along his chest and down his stomach, teeth coming out to run across his pecks, nipping at his hips as Renly’s legs spread beneath him. He kissed him on his thighs and his knees, back up to his cock and his balls, before he pressed his lips against his hands, kissing the palm and the tops.

 Eventually the relaxed pace became one of fervour, Renly demanding everything of Loras as they forgot about what was right beside them—looming over them and everything they’d made together. The past had been what had stopped them from completely connecting, their relationship one with a barrier—a rush of rapids that kept each other separated on either side of the bank. But as Renly began breaking himself down with every heart wrenching story and destroyed cabin window, there was a new bond being formed between them. One that made for moments such as these to be possible—where they were completely and utterly there with each other, nothing holding them back as Loras entered Renly and Renly held him close.

 Never had Loras felt this close to Renly, his very essence all over him, dragging and pulling him in as Renly physically held on, muscles tightening and thighs squeezing as he took in as much of Loras as possible. Staring down at him as they rode through their pleasure, Loras didn’t see the disconnect in his gaze as their eyes locked, deep blue with brilliant hazel, the two shaking as they climaxed, one right after the other.

 It wasn’t until they were cleaning up and putting their clothes back on that they realized it was dark out. Slipping his shirt back on, he stood and began to button it up, wincing as the pain returned. Renly didn’t see the flinch, however, and moved in for a slow kiss as soon as they were both standing, one Loras melted under, fingers pausing on the second to last button at the bottom.

 “Thank you for taking me away just when I thought I’d never leave,” he whispered when they pulled away.

 “You’re welcome,” Loras said, Renly’s face just visible in the dark. “Did it work?”

 Renly nodded, fingers going to play with the curls at the nap of his neck. “I thought for a second I’d be lost there, you know? Not able to get away from it all and just continue to cycle through everything that had gone _wrong_ here. But then you were there, and suddenly the memories became just that—memories, no longer realities… thank you, Loras. Not just for taking me away, but for standing by my side as I work through all of this.”

 Loras shrugged, not knowing what to say other than another mumbled ‘you’re welcome’. What else could you say to something like that?

 “And look, I didn’t gag or throw up looking at your face while we fucked!”

 This time it was Loras’ turn to storm off.


	31. If You're Going to San Francisco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine
> 
> Warning: None
> 
> Authors Note: Sorry for the late update again! School and colds and everything is just bogging me down. Anyways, sneak-peak of Renly and Loras' possible next adventure in this chapter?? Maybe??? And we're getting to the climax of the tale, so wait for that!

 Loras knew nothing lasted forever—including good moods. He knew it, but he never liked it when it happened.

 Walking down the trail toward Emerald, reins in hand as they lead their horses behind them, Renly and Loras chatted about horsemanship in the early afternoon light, grins on both their faces. They’d spent the night a little ways from the cabin in a tent, Loras taking first watch before Renly covered for him, the two wishing they could wrap around each other for warmth but knowing they needed to stay vigilant, lest a cougar look for a quick meal of one of their horses. But even with the slightly chilly sleep they were in high spirits when they woke, the permanent gloom that seemed to have come over Renly disappearing, leaving only bright smiles and good humour.

 It felt as if the previous day hadn’t happened at all, Renly’s struggles with his past nothing more but a distant memory. Loras had hoped that things would continue that way; that the things that made Renly so goddamn haunted were gone completely, the visit to the cabin his last cathartic step toward recovery. Unfortunately for both of them, they’d forgotten completely about one person…

 “No, Renly, you don’t get it—you build a bond with a horse when you raise it.”

 “But that doesn’t mean you can’t build a bond later on.”

 “It doesn’t, but it’s not the same. I mean look, I love Ricochet, he’s a nice, solid horse with a weird affinity for valleys, but Daisy and I—”

 “Is that Stannis?” Renly interrupted, stopping in the middle of the road just outside an old church.

Standing outside on the deck of the building was indeed Stannis, his tall, broad shoulder frame reminding Loras of Renly—so much so that he had to take a second to make sure Renly was still standing beside him. But when Stannis turned around, the glower on his face erased all other similarities. Loras’ attention, however, was quickly caught by the woman he was conversing with, her vibrant red hair rolled up in a neat bun as she stood near the door to the church, holding a bible tightly. Stannis looked annoyed as they spoke, but the woman didn’t notice, or if she did she did not care. Loras was beginning to suspect Stannis always looked a bit miffed.

 “Looks like it,” Loras mumbled, sighing as he could practically see Renly lose his spark once more, the vibrancy in his eyes dulling as he gazed at his older brother. “Is your brother religious?”

 “Not the last time I spoke to him—he never was one for placing his destiny in the hands of an invisible man in the sky.” He smiled sheepishly at Loras. “No offence.”

 “None taken.”

 “Do you think if we walk around the church he won’t notice—”

 Too late.

 The red woman noticed them first, her brow quirking as her piercing blue eyes locked on them. For a moment Loras felt very exposed, her stare icy enough to freeze him on the spot, but the warmth returned to her eyes as soon as Stannis turned toward the two of them, a small smile on her lips as she no doubt asked who they were. Her hand rested on Stannis’ arm gently then, and Loras swore there was a bit of tenderness to the touch.

 “Guess we have to say hello,” Renly mumbled, straightening his shoulders as he slipped into his role once more, ready to put on a performance.

 “I suppose so,” Loras agreed, trailing beside Renly as they walked toward the pair at the church. Stannis was even more dower in the sun than he had been under the dirty light inside the jail. Skin pale and pulled tight with large bags under his eyes, he looked as if he’d been worked thin throughout his entire life, no room for mistakes or for breaks of any kind. There was no softness in his eyes at all—only a hard stare that seemed to nail both Loras and Renly to the dirt road just a few steps before them.

 “Renly,” Stannis said, tipping his hat. It looked awkward; as if he wasn’t used to any displays of acknowledgment. Loras was beginning to wonder how he was respected as a sheriff in a small town if he couldn’t even tip his hat naturally.

 Renly did the same, an easy smile on his lips as he looked over the woman. “Hello, Stannis. And who might this be?”

 The woman smiled at the two of them, her hand still on Stannis’ arm. “I am Melisandre,” she said. Her voice was soft and crisp, and Loras detected a hint of a British accent. It reminded Loras of Ygritte, although Ygritte’s voice had more warmth to it.

 “Hello, ma’am, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Renly and this is my partner Tyrell,” Renly replied, introducing the two of them. They both shook her hand, her grip having to leave Stannis’ forearm.

 “What brings you to our town?” she asked, a brow quirked. It was a simple question, and yet Loras got the impression that she wasn’t listening to their answer more than she had to. She’d probably already made her mind up on the two of them as soon as they stepped up to her; she didn’t seem too impressed with them. Maybe that was because Loras was already known in town as a hooligan. Which he was, but that was beside the point.

 “Oh you know, just seeing the wide open America—exploring and visiting old haunting grounds. Stannis here is my brother.” Renly winked at Stannis, making the silent man bristle further.

 “Yes, Sheriff Baratheon had told me his brother was visiting; I wasn’t even aware he had a younger brother.”

 “Yeah, he has a tendency to forget about me.”

 “What were you doing up in the mountains?” Stannis interjected, obviously annoyed. If Loras hadn’t known better, he’d have thought Renly actually looked pleased with himself.

 “Like I said, we were just visiting some of my old haunting grounds up in the mountains. Checked out our old cabin; you remember the cabin we lived in, right Stannis?”

 “Of course I do,” he said through gritted teeth.

 Melisandre seemed to sense the tension and did her best to step in, her hand once again touching Stannis, this time patting his shoulder. “The mountains are certainly beautiful this time of year. Tell me, Mr. Tyrell, you did not grow up in these parts, did you? What do you think of the mountains?”

 “They’re mighty fine, ma’am,” Loras said, caught off guard by being dragged into the conversation.

 “Did you two run into any trouble while you were up there?” she asked, her attention returning to Renly. Loras watched as her eyes skirted down toward his neck, a brow cocked and for the barest of moments her lips pulled downward as she went to look at Loras. “You have bruises on your neck.”

 Renly did his best to not reach up and touch the bite marks Loras had littered across his neck and chest last night, but both Stannis and Melisandre seemed unconvinced as Renly began to describe a reaction to the pollen on the flowers they encountered. Renly had certainly been attacked by a flower of sorts—a rose, in fact—and if Loras didn’t know any better, he’d have sworn both Melisandre and Stannis knew that.

 There was a lag in the conversation after Renly’s futile attempts at covering it up; Melisandre peering at them, silently judging them; Stannis looked a bit awkward, his steel gaze locked on Renly; Renly looked a bit embarrassed but calm all the same; and Loras just standing beside Ricochet, watching everyone else. Eventually the silence was broken with a shout off to the side, snapping everyone’s attention down the street. It was a deputy waving at Stannis to come over. Loras had a vague sense of familiarity looking at him—he probably carried Loras out of the general store.

 “I should go see what Davos wants,” Stannis said, and made another curt hat tilt at all of them before making a hasty exit. They watched him leave, Loras wishing he could follow Stannis and get away from the gaze of Melisandre before them. But she did not seem willing to let them go, even as Renly began their goodbyes.

 “Well, I guess we will just—“

 “I host a Sunday service every week if you two would like to come sometime,” Melisandre cut in, ignoring Renly. “I do not know if you are like your brother, Renly, and do not believe in our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, but you are welcome to join me—as are you Mr. Tyrell.”

 Renly snorted but covered it up with a cough. “I was wondering if Stannis suddenly found God when I saw him speaking to you,” he said, “but I think I’d have to decline your generous offer.”

 “I will as well. I’ve come to realize that God made this world for us to enjoy, and I don’t really fancy cooping myself up in a room in order to show him my appreciation. I always believed actually enjoying what he’s created is the best way to show my love and dedication.” Loras didn’t know why he was being so stand-offish, but it felt good to make her lose her smile, her gaze hardening as she regarded him. Something about her made Loras feel distinctly uncomfortable—like the rustle of the leaves in the middle of the night right above your head as a cold wind blew in. It made you feel on edge—uneasy and a bit spooked.

 “We all have our ways of praying and appreciating God’s love,” she eventually said, although it looked as if it pained her. “I will leave you two to your day, then.”

 She turned around and retreated back into her church, the heels of her shoes clicking crisply against the wooden floorboards. As soon as the door was closed and they’d waited a respectable time, Renly began to giggle. Covering his hand over his mouth as they walked away from the Church, he just laughed, Loras unable to stop from joining in. He didn’t know what was so funny, but to hear Renly come out of that conversation laughing rather than glowering was a relief. Besides, it had felt wonderful to deny Melisandre the satisfaction of preaching in front of him.

 “God I adore how you are such an ass sometimes,” Renly said, nudging Loras with his elbow.

 Loras shrugged. “Comes naturally, I suppose. I don’t know, though, there was something about her that made me uneasy.”

 “Like she was judging us, huh? I chalked that up to being friendly with Stannis; he never was one for making friends or being friendly or generally having anyone warm up to him. Although, Melisandre seemed awful close to him…”

 “Think they’re fucking?” Loras asked, wondering aloud.

 “Oh god, I don’t want to think about my brother fucking anyone,” he moaned, shaking his head from side to side. Loras just grinned. “Besides, I know for a fact he’s married.”

 “Stannis? Married?”

 “I know, right? I heard it from someone in the saloon in the middle of talks about the kid with the pickle jar. Apparently he’s got a little girl or something. I’m an uncle—weird, huh?”

 Renly, an uncle? That was a queer notion. “How do you feel about that?” They’d arrived at the barns and let the hands take their horses from them. Loras was still a bit paranoid about leaving his horse in the hands of another person, but gave the reins over with no argument.

 “I don’t know how I feel,” Renly said as soon as they were walking back to the hotel. “I suppose it doesn’t matter, does it? I’ve never been a part of this kid’s life, and I doubt I will be.”

 Loras didn’t know what it was like to be an uncle, but he supposed he could be one now, too, without even knowing it. Enough time had passed since he’d left the ranch, and Margaery and Garlan were looking to have families of their own. _Can you really care for someone you don’t know, even if they are your blood?_

Renly was all Loras cared about now. Taking his hand as soon as they were back in their room, he rubbed the palm with his thumb, watching Renly’s fingers twitch a bit as the muscles were massaged. “We can leave, you know… I mean, any time you want to go and we will go.”

 Renly smiled at Loras quizzically. “I’m fine—we can stay here for a few more days.”

 “You positive?” he asked, a bit suspicious. “Don’t block all of this from me, Renly—you’re seeing your brother every day now.”

 “Yeah, but it’s never very long, and I can just avoid him. As long as I don’t have to talk to him about anything other than going up the mountain for a fuck and the casual destruction of a cabin, I think I’ll be fine.”

XX

 They were staring at him—all sorts of people just watching his every move. Beady eyes, big eyes, watery eyes, blue and brown and green and even pale grey. They bore into the back of his head and across his back, they peered at his face and glanced over his shoulder.

 All Loras could do was smirk in response.

 Holding his cards in front of him, he glanced across the table at the man sitting in a rickety old chair, mimicking Loras’ position, fingers clutching his cards as he stared at them, lips slightly parted and brows raised high in mock indifference. Fat and sweating with his hair plastered down on his head, his thick fingers tapped against the back of his cards, a movement he’d done repeatedly throughout their game of poker, neither giving away a good hand or a bad one. A nervous twitch, perhaps, but one that didn’t aid Loras either way. His large bulbous nose was red, giving away just how drunk he was, but that too did not help Loras.

 The man played a mean game of poker.

 But then again, Loras had been trained by the best liar in all of America, and he wasn’t about to let him down. Besides, Loras never, _ever_ lost at poker.

 Sitting beside him was Renly, his hands resting on his stomach, a relaxed smile on his lips as he sucked on a cigarette, ignoring the tension in the room as everyone else looked on, wondering who would win the stack of money and trinkets in the middle of the room. Brienne was a distance off, standing on the stairwell that lead up to a few rooms for rent. She towered over everyone else, her gaze also locked on Loras, curious about the proceedings. She’d never seen such a gamble before.

 Truth be told, Loras wasn’t quite sure how things had progressed so rapidly. He’d just joined in on a game of poker along with Renly, the two betting small tokens and bits of cash, before people started to drop out as the betting grew higher and higher. Maybe it was the thrill of being able to prove himself more than the kid who got into the fight in the general store, or maybe it was the alcohol in his system, but Loras had gone right along with the other man who didn’t know when to call it quits.

 It was the last game of the night, and the most money was up for grabs, too. Loras had put his favourite pocket watch in the pile, too, much to Renly’s surprise. _It’s just so I make sure I definitely win,_ Loras told himself as he shoved it into the pile, _I can’t relax because my watch is on the line._

 His eyes skirted back down to his cards, Loras trying not to get too excited as he clutched his hand close to his chest. One more card and he’d have a straight flush—well, if it was the right card, of course. A neat row of clubs sat before him—a five, a six, seven and a nine. He just needed an eight…

 He took his last card, flipping it up slowly. Closing his eyes, he put it into his hand, praying to God and hoping some of Renly’s ridiculous luck transferred over to him.

 Loras saw the black eight first, followed by the club signal. He felt like he was going to faint, but kept his composure, not even smiling as Renly’s knee gently knocked his own under the table. He was going to win, unless the man across has the Royal Flush.

 “I’m in,” Loras said, everyone gasping as he tossed a ring into the pile. It was a ring he’d stolen off of the train down in Mexico. It probably wasn’t worth much, really, but it looked flashy.

 The man across the table—Loras suspected his name was Richard, but he couldn’t remember—nodded and tossed in some more money. “I’m in.”

 Another gasp, the crowd tensing around them as they got ready for the big reveal. Loras felt like his heart was going to claw its way up his chest as the man slowly—so slowly—put his cards down on the table to reveal his hand.

 Three aces and a pair of jacks. A full house.

 Someone behind Loras let out a slow whistle while others began to mumble behind him, a few thinking Richard had won. Clearly Richard was no fool to gloat just yet, however, his eyes trained on Loras, a tense smile on his lips. Loras wanted to savour this moment—he wanted it to last for as long as possible. The tension of not knowing who won was so strong in the room, and Loras knew he was in charge of it. He was in control in that situation, and not only that, he was in control and a hell of a lot richer, too.

 But the grin that slipped through his calm façade was seen by all, and he had no choice but to put his cards down. “It’s a straight flush, my friend,” he declared loudly, grinning like a fool.

 Immediately the room exploded in a chorus of both cheers and boos, everyone moving about, hands clasping Loras’ shoulders in congratulations while others went to console Richard. Loras had just enough time to reach across to shake the man’s hand before Renly was on him, hollering away as he pulled him into a rough hug.

 “You son of a bitch, I thought we were gonna lose!” Renly yelled over the crowed, ruffling Loras’ hair into a tangled curly mess. “Goddamn, Little Rose!”

 Loras just laughed, shoving Renly away playfully to collect his winnings. The piano man started to play again as soon as the game was done, and the crowed started to disperse, everyone having had their fun for the evening and now finding it time to return to their favourite past-time—drinking. Scooping up the winnings, he divided some of it with Renly to carry and Brienne as soon as she re-appeared.

 “How did you do that?” Brienne asked, taking some bills from Loras.

 “Sheer luck,” Loras said. She didn’t look impressed. “I’m not lying, Brienne—I don’t…” Leaning in, he looked around quickly before continuing. “I don’t cheat, Brienne, and don’t go around questioning that in this room. It could mean the difference between leaving here alive or leaving here dead, alright?”

 She nodded, although Loras was a bit miffed she’d even think he’d cheat. But his good mood was not hampered too much, the gloating and the glory his to cherish. Eventually the excitement had started to get to him, though, and after sharing a victory shot with some men who’d been playing earlier he excused himself and went outside, desperate for some fresh air and a cigarette.

 Stepping out under the clear night sky, he leaned against a post and light his cigarette, the scent of the match quickly covered up by the strong tobacco. Taking in a lungful of smoke, he held it a moment before letting it curl up and out of his mouth, a satisfied sigh accompanying the release. He felt like he was floating, the victory inside the saloon coupled with the alcohol making him almost giddy. It had been a while since he’d let himself completely relax and let go, Renly’s behaviour and wellbeing continually on his mind. But Renly had been in a good mood and kept shoving shot after shot in front of him, and Loras couldn’t help but give in for one night. Renly wouldn’t have any breakdowns that needed his sobriety to fix them—at least, not tonight. Tonight they were just having fun.

 “Hello, Mr. Tyrell.”

 Loras rolled his eyes and took another drag, lolling his head to the side to regard at Melisandre in the moonlight. Blowing the smoke out slowly, he quirked his brow as she just stood, expecting something. “Hello, ma’am,” he eventually said, figuring she wanted some acknowledgment _. Maybe if I play along she’ll leave quicker._

 “Deciding to take a break from all of that gambling?”

 Loras shrugged. “Can’t win every game they play—men will start to get annoyed with you if you always win.”

 “And you always win?” She cocked her head to the side, looking curious.

 “Not always, just most of the time,” he said, taking another long drag of his cigarette right after.

 She hummed, her hands gently interlocked before her, giving her a relaxed if not proper stance. “I suppose living the life of an outlaw would require a certain amount of confidence in ones abilities.”

 Loras clucked his tongue and shook his head, dropping the last of his cigarette into the dirt below. Hooking his thumbs in his belt loops, he shifted on the post. “What makes you think I’m an outlaw?”

 “Don’t play coy with me, Mr. Tyrell. I’ve seen enough men in my life to figure out what sort of lifestyle they have just by looking at their clothing. Besides, word travels—there aren’t many pairs of youthful men, one with curly hair and the other with dark black hair, wandering around down south making names for themselves. Any fool could eventually figure out who you are and what you do.”

 “Even if Renly and I are outlaws down South, we aren’t outlaws up here. You’ve got no place sticking the lawmen on us because we haven’t done anything wrong.”

 It was Melisandre’s turn to roll her eyes. “A leopard cannot change its spots. Eventually…”

 “Eventually Renly and I will be leaving here, so don’t worry about the integrity of your precious town,” Loras shot back. What was her issue? “Why are you so concerned, anyways? I know church folk like to get into people’s business, but this is pretty extreme.”

 “It is of no concern of yours. Just the sooner you leave, the better—to cause such turmoil to Sheriff Baratheon and his men would be most unkind, especially to a man who protects our town. He does more for us than you will ever know; he is a hero among the town people, a guiding light in a world full of so much corruption.”

 She sounded more as if she was preaching than anything else. A certain fervor overcame her, her eyes bright in the light of the moon, chin raised and back straight, poised and yet tense as she went on about the merits of Stannis and his ‘heroic’ qualities. Loras knew there was a reason he automatically disliked her—she thought Stannis was the second coming of Christ or something.

 “You seem awfully dedicated to him,” Loras said, letting the unsaid accusation hang heavy in the air. She caught on to it, her brow quirking, her gaze turning to stone as she stared at Loras.

 “You haven’t done anything in the town, perhaps,” she began again, choosing to ignore Loras’ previous comment, “but I know you do sinful things that will be judged in the eyes of the lord. You and Sheriff Stannis’ brother aren’t merely friends, are you?”

 Loras snorted. For a second he felt like denying it, but then he figured there was no point. She could accuse him of all sorts of things, some of them true and some downright lies, but that didn’t mean Loras had to give her the satisfaction of watching him squirm under her magnify glass. “You mean the sin of sodomy? As I recall, God doesn’t take too kindly to adultery, neither.”

 Loras didn’t get the satisfaction of hearing her reply, the swinging doors of the saloon bursting open, Renly and Brienne striding out, Renly flushed with alcohol and excitement while Brienne just looked flushed from the heat inside the cramped building. Immediately Loras pushed off the post, grinning as they approached.

 “What took you so long out here? We thought you died or passed out in a water trough,” Renly said loudly, shoving Loras playfully.

 “I got caught up speaking to Ms. Melisandre,” he said, nodding his head toward her, wishing he didn’t have to introduce her and he could just pretend she wasn’t there. Still, Loras had been raised by his mother and gran to be courteous at all times. Perhaps not nice, but courteous.

 Renly lost a bit of his smile then, but managed to keep most of it there as he pulled away from Loras, tipping his hat toward her. “Hello, ma’am. What brings you down this stretch of the road?”

 “I was on my way home when I noticed Mr. Tyrell standing here,” she explained. “I should continue on my way, however. Have a good evening.”

 She walked off then, footsteps fast as she traveled down toward the church where she no doubt lived near. No one said anything for some time, all three of them watching her go, before Loras turned on Renly and shoved his hand down his vest pocket.

 “W-What are you doing?” Renly cried out, struggling to push Loras away, Loras holding on as he pulled out his favourite pocket watch.

“Thought you could take it from me, huh?” Loras yelled, shoving it in front of Renly’s face. “It’s mine, Renly—you may be able to rob everyone else, but you can’t steal from a fellow thief that easy.”

 “Is there no loyalty among thieves?” Brienne asked, shaking her head as Renly glowered.

 “What is his is mine,” Renly drawled out, swaying from side to side gently as they walked down the road. “Besides, I’d give it back to him later.”

 “Sure you would,” Loras said, shoving Renly gently. Renly ended up tripping over his own feet, Brienne catching him just before he managed to fall on his face. Hefting him up, she patted his back gently, Renly thanking her as she continued to support him.

 It wasn’t until Loras was resting on top of Renly in their hotel room, his long fingers playing with his curls while they enjoyed the afterglow of messy, drunken sex, that Renly finally asked what he’d been speaking to Melisandre about.

 “Nothing really,” Loras yawned, his eyelids getting heavier and heavier the longer his scalp was massaged and his hair was brushed. “She was just warning us not to annoy her messiah.”

 “Her messiah?”

 “Mm, your brother. I’m positive she’s screwing him, or at the very least wants to.”

 “Loras… please, stop talking about my brother’s sex life.”

 Loras laughed lazily as he lifted his head in order to kiss Renly gently on the lips. “Whatever, his sex life will never be as good as our sinful sodomy filled one,” he mumbled, grinning as Renly nipped his bottom lip playfully. “Besides, Melisandre does have good taste—you Baratheon men are awfully handsome.”

 “Should have seen Robert, then. Apparently I was starting to look like him when I was getting older; at least, that is what Cressen said. But then he got fat and drunk and he was really rather unattractive. Some say he became the size of a walrus.”

 “Please don’t get drunk and turn into a walrus,” Loras said, going back to resting his head on his shoulder, nose pressed against his neck.

 “I’m already drunk.”

 “Don’t turn into a walrus, then. You couldn’t ride your horse or do any more bank heists, and you’d crush me in bed.”

 “There is something I need to tell you, then, Loras. Something more about my past.” Renly’s voice suddenly became serious, the slur to his words and the lazy amusement in the tone of his voice completely gone. Furrowing his brow, Loras raised his head again, staring at Renly in the dark, trying to see his face. All he could see was a bit of the twinkle in his eyes as the light hit them, but the rest of his face was too dark to see properly. Also didn’t help Loras was tired and still inebriated.

  “What is it?” he asked, worried.

 “Well, you see… there is a curse in my family. As soon as we reach the age of forty, something terrible happens.”

 “What happens?”

 “We… we turn into sea creatures.”

  Loras let out a loud snort and dropped his head back down, nose hitting Renly’s collarbone a bit too hard. But he ignored the discomfort, laughing along with Renly, the bed shaking almost as much as when they had sex.

 “D-Do you know what animal you’ll turn into?” he asked between giggles.

 “Not completely sure, but I have a feeling I’ll become a seahorse.”

 “What about Stannis?”

 “I don’t know… what do you think he’ll turn into?”

 Loras shrugged, nuzzling Renly’s shoulder gently, the occasional chuckle still escaping. “He’s certainly got the personality of a lobster.”

 That set Renly off, Loras’ head bouncing as Renly guffawed, Loras once again unable to stop from joining in. Renly’s laugh was infectious.

 “Will you still love me if I become a seahorse?” he asked eventually, sighing heavily.

 Loras snorted again. “I don’t know— should I keep you in a jar or something and carry you around in my travels?”

 “Oh, I think I’d like that. I’ve been landlocked all my life, you know. Although I have wanted to see the Pacific Ocean—you know, go to California or something.”

 “I could take you to the ocean once you turn,” Loras said, finding he was serious—as if Renly was actually going to turn into a seahorse.

 “Thank you, Loras, I think we should do that.”

 Loras lifted his head once more, this time moving to straddle Renly, arms braced beside his head as he grinned down at him. “We should go after we get Brienne to a train station,” he said, excitement in his voice. He didn’t know where this sudden desire to travel so far to see just an ocean had come from, but the thought of what they’d see and experience on their travel made Loras eager. Maybe it was just the alcohol talking, but Loras suddenly wanted nothing more than to go all the way to California to see the ocean.

 “Go where?” Renly asked, hooking his arms over Loras’ shoulders.

“California to see the Pacific Ocean. We should do it, Renly. Come on, say you’ll go with me.”

 Renly hesitated a moment, mulling it over. Loras just wiggled atop him, waiting on pins and needles for his reply. Eventually Renly seemed to come to a conclusion, his attention once again on Loras as he broke out into a big smile. “Okay, Loras, okay. We’ll go to California.”

 Grinning, Loras moved down to kiss him, their bodies pressing together as the thrill of another adventure took hold.


	32. Abandoned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: None
> 
> Warnings: None
> 
> Authors Note: Sorry for the late update. Crunch time at University!

  There was only so much you could do in a small town when you had the law breathing down your back. Play a few rounds of poker; go for a ride around the town; sit by a lake and get eaten by bugs; polish your guns for the seventh time in a day; find yourself a lady for the evening, or, in the case of Renly and Loras, fuck all night so you sleep most of the day away.

 Emerald was a lazy town despite the hype surrounding the developing railroad track that would connect it to the outside world. Tourists came in to enjoy the lake and take in the mountain air, but they were few and far between, despite what locals would have you believe. Loras could understand having pride in your town and making grand claims about it, but you could only lie so much before the truth came out. And the truth was, Emerald was boring. Dull; mind-numbing; uninteresting; tedious; so lackluster you seriously contemplated shooting yourself in the foot just to see if that’d wake the flies that rested on the ass of your horse in the hot summer heat.

 There was just not a lot to do or see, and for a boy like Loras who thrived on adventure and travel, Emerald was like a coffin for him, the constraints placed on him almost choking him. Ever since he’d gotten into the general store brawl (or the Pickle Jar Massacre as some liked to call it), Loras was being watched, if not by Stannis then by his deputy, Davos. He knew they were just waiting for Renly or Loras to do something stupid and lock them up, no matter how minor the infraction was. He had even started to make a game of it whenever he’d see one of them staring at him. He’d just stare right back—maybe he’d even wave at them, a smug grin on his face as they quickly averted their eyes and walked off, trying to make it look like they hadn’t been hunting him like he was some buck in the woods.

 Then, of course, Loras had Ms. Melisandre watching him whenever he went somewhere. She’d be standing outside her church as he’d come out of the hotel, her cold eyes on him and Renly as they went to get something to eat from one of the nearby shops. They wouldn’t even be doing anything and Loras felt like she was judging them. She probably thought they were having perverse anal sex while planning the destruction of Stannis in between the heavy pants and deep thrusting.

 So not only was Loras bored, but he was also annoyed and more than a little paranoid. He caught himself looking over his shoulder as he went to take a piss against a tree when he went for an afternoon walk with Brienne and Renly, half expecting Stannis to descend from a tree to declare pissing was illegal and arresting him on the spot. He had wanted to leave Emerald by the second day they were there, but oddly enough it was Renly who wanted to stay.

 He wouldn’t really say why, but Loras suspected it had to do with Stannis—it always had to do with Stannis now. While Loras would glare at him when they’d walk by on the street, Renly wouldn’t have much of an expression at all as he gazed at his brother. In fact, he almost looked dead in the eyes, appearance blank and with little spark. Loras had no idea why he’d want to stay in a place that took his brothers from him and had now treated him as if he was some mangy, unwanted dog, but sometimes Loras thought he’d see a bit of longing in Renly’s eyes as soon as they’d past Stannis. It was only there for a moment—the briefest of glimpses that Loras wondered if he’d made it all up—before it was gone, snatched away by a false smile and feigned happiness that once again cloaked Renly like a performer putting on a costume.

 The longing, however, made Loras think that maybe Renly hoped there was some reconciliation in the future, or maybe some further closure with his brother. Something that Renly could use to further bury the dead that seemed to haunt him. The visit to the cabin, while cathartic, had done little else but ease Renly’s fears that Cressen’s grave had been too shallow to protect his body from predators and the elements. He was still haunted by the past, a multitude of scars over his large heart.  Maybe he hoped Stannis could help him finally come to terms with his past and move on? Renly would never admit it, of course, and Loras would never bring it up, but he hoped something good would come from staying in Emerald longer than they needed and were welcome to.

 Besides, Loras didn’t want all of his sanity to have been sacrificed in vain.

 “What are we doing today?” Loras asked. Peering out the hotel window, he’d just spent the last five minutes watching an old man chase down a piece of paper blowing in the wind while a gaggle of children looked on in vast amusement. He had finally caught the paper, and therefore Loras’ entertainment was done for the day.

 “I don’t know; what would you like to do?” Renly asked in return. His voice drifted closer as he replied, and Loras wasn’t surprised when strong hands grasped his shoulders, gently kneading the muscles.

 “Leave Emerald city,” he said, pouting.

 Renly chuckled softly and ducked down to nuzzle his curls away with his nose, lips brushing the corner of his jaw. “Soon—we’ll leave soon. In a few days once the General Store gets stocked up _I_ will go down and get some supplies.”

 The emphasis on the ‘I’ did not go unnoticed.

 Sighing, Loras turned away from the window and stared up at Renly, gently knocking their heads together as Renly stayed crouched over. “Why are we staying for so long?”

 “The General Store has had to recover since the brawl, and goods take a while to make their way up here. We can’t leave on an empty saddle pack.” It was a clever excuse, or perhaps it was a convenient one. Regardless, Loras had no room to complain, and simple hefted himself off of the chair to stand in front of Renly.

 “Then what will we do today?” he asked, rubbing his eyes, yawning loudly as he did so. Loras was pleased that the simple act of brushing his eye clear of sand no longer stung like it once had. The bruises had weakened in colour and the swelling was gone, the only remains faint bruises around his eye and jaw. He almost felt human again.

 “Want to go to the saloon?”

 The saloon. There was little else to do besides relaxing in the saloon and waste away their money on cheap booze and stupid gambles. Granted, they never drank the cheap alcohol and rarely, if ever, lost a game of poker, dice, or the occasional five finger fillet, but still, even the more expensive whiskey started to lose its flavour. Loras didn’t have a better idea however, and nodded, reaching behind Renly to grab his hat off the small table.

 “You’re buying the first round,” he said, kissing his cheek as he passed.

 They invited Brienne along but she declined, stating she had some other things to attend to. Neither of them knew what those ‘other things’ were, but they didn’t press her. She was a smart girl who could most definitely handle herself, and Loras was more than willing to let her become independent. He didn’t like having her around more than he had to—even if he was beginning to warm to her company.

 Finally.

 They made their way to the saloon slowly, the sun still high in the sky as they squirrels called to each other and the birds fluttered about in the thick grove of trees that surrounded the town. Enjoying the fresh air while it lasted, Loras took in a deep breath of pine and dirt, savouring it. That was one nice thing about Emerald—it smelled amazing. Much better than anything down in Texas, where most deep breaths were accompanied with dirty and a gritty feeling in your lungs.

 “You really thrive up here, you know that?” Renly said as they neared the saloon. He was smiling at Loras—one of his smiles that always made Loras’ heart skip a beat, even after all this time.

 “I do?” he asked, quirking his head to the side.

 “Yeah, I don’t know what it is about the mountain air, but it does you good. You look radiant, Little Rose, although you always look radiant.”

 Looking around quickly to make sure no one overheard the heavy flirtation of Renly’s words, he turned back when he was sure no one was paying them any mind, grinning brightly. “Thank you, Renly. You look mighty fine yourself.”

 Entering the cramped saloon they shuffled their way through the afternoon crowed and found themselves a table near the back, the surface sticky with alcohol but not much else—a blessing in a saloon like this. Sometimes you found god awful things on the surfaces inside a bar. Taking a seat on a creaky old chair, Loras took his hat off to run a hand through his curls, smiling as one of the barmaids walked over, grinning at the two of them.

 “And what did you boys want?” she purred out. Obviously it had been a good day, all her hair still in a bun and her cheeks flushed just with excitement and not work. Loras knew as the day wore on she’d be a lot less chipper to the men who came through those doors.

 “Two beers,” Renly said, winking at her as she left.

 The room temperature drinks arrived shortly, and Loras fiddled with the stubby neck of the bottle as he scanned the room. Nothing was really going on, just other men and the occasional woman sitting around, conversing or napping against walls and across tables. The word day was just over, and more men would be filtering in as the sky went black and the wives let them go over to converse with ‘the boys’. Sipping his beer, he chatted with Renly for a bit, the two of them occasionally knocking knees under the table, but eventually even the simple thrill of touching began to bore them.

 “Anyone up for a game of poker?” Renly asked loudly in the room after Loras had given up on telling a rather boring guide on how to lasso a heifer. A few men perked up at the suggestion, and Loras and Renly found themselves in a game with three other men, everyone sitting around the largest table in the saloon while others looked on with mild interest.

 Loras and Renly had managed to become somewhat known in the community by frequenting the saloon, and many men enjoyed playing a few games with them—just as long as they didn’t bet too much. They’d all seen or heard about Loras lucking out the first night he’d showed up at the saloon, and no one wished to lose their entire life savings like Richard had to some green kid from down south.

 The games carried on well enough, Loras eventually giving up completely after he’d grown bored with the proceedings. Renly, however, was having a very different game than Loras. He’d won the first few hands and was getting the men to bet more and more as they casually conversed, all eyes locked on Renly to try and read him. Loras could have told them it was a useless thing to do; Renly could have been an actor with the way he hid his emotions and true intentions. His eyes were bright all the time as he peered across the top of his hand, a little smirk continually tugging at his lips no matter his hand. Loras leaned back in his chair and rested his hands on top of his stomach, smiling as he watched the game with mild amusement. It was better than the old man with the slip of paper in the wind, that was for sure.

 Things didn’t get interesting until one of the men decided to test his luck and betted a nice pocket watch—one that reminded Loras of his own that he’d stolen. This one, however, seemed personally valuable, the man sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he placed it on top of the pile. Glittering under the low light, everyone stared at it, one man making a surprised sound from up above on his perch on the wrap around balcony.

 Loras narrowed his eyes as the man put the watch down, trying to read his face carefully as soon as his lip had been pushed back out from between his teeth. There was only one reason that man would put his watch down like that if it really meant so much to him. He had a good hand, and wanted Renly and the two others to join in on betting more expensive items in hopes of winning it all. His face betrayed all this—his watery eyes bright with excitement as he shifted slightly on the chair, scooting forward so he was leaning further on the table, a barely contained smile on his gaunt face. Loras knew Renly read his expression well enough, but didn’t know if he’d take the bait and bet something of equal value.

 One of the other players had already bowed out, tossing his cards on the deck with a flourish, shaking his head, a smile on his lips despite having lost. He hadn’t bet anything more substantial than a few bills and an ugly ring he seemed more than happy to be rid of. The other man with the shaggy hair and the double chin seemed to have gotten caught up in the moment, however, and tossed in his own pocket-watch. It wasn’t as nice, but it was still something you could pawn.

 Loras turned his attention to Renly along with everyone else, wondering if he was going to play or not. He hoped Renly had a good hand as his partner tossed a few shiny trinkets on the table, and wasn’t just getting caught up in his own hubris as well. But Renly’s expression was unreadable to even Loras, that maddening smirk tugging at his lips as he held his cards closer and stared down at the pretty facings of them. Sitting back and trying not to look to anxious, he waited for the big reveal like everyone else, an ache in his stomach as he waited to see how much money they’d lost today.

 The man with the pocket watch was first to reveal his cards—nine, eight, seven, six, and five, all of the hearts variety. A straight flush, and a mighty pretty one at that. There was a low rumble of excitement from the group, everyone turning to the second man who was looking angrier than he had any right to be. Tossing his cards down on the table, he shook his head and glowered, not even bothering to show the crowed what he had. Whatever it was, it obviously not enough to beat a straight flush.

 Which left Renly.

 He was still smirking, still sitting relaxed, and still looking confident, despite Loras knowing that the only way he could win this was if he had a royal flush—a near impossibility. But then again, Renly had always been good at achieving the impossible.

 And he had.

 Placing the cards gently down in front of him, he revealed a royal flush, the intricate detail of the knight, jack and queen all glaring up at the crowed, smirking along with Renly. Unable to contain his disbelief, Loras shook his head and let out a breathy ‘fuck me’ before the saloon went wild with cheers and further cries of disbelief.

 “You should have more faith in me, Little Rose,” Renly said, gently smacking Loras’ hat forward as he stood to collect his winnings. Pushing his hat back up, Loras pulled a face and gently kicked Renly under the table.

 “Excuse me if I thought it was a fool’s errand you were doing. No way could you normally beat a straight flush.”

 “Yeah, there was no way—unless you cheated.”

 The saloon went quiet.

 It was as if all the air had been taken out of the room—sucked right up like a match being light. Everyone turned to look at the man who had lost, his gaunt face flushed with colour, anger in his eyes as he stared at Renly from across the way. Hands half wrapped around the pile, Renly stared right back, frozen in place.

 “What did you say?” Renly asked quietly, quirking a brow.

 “I said you cheated! There is no way you could have beaten me—I had a straight flush!” he cried out as he stood. Immediately the tension in the room rose, everyone closing in, glares on either side. Straightening, Renly stood in front of the man, his brow still quirked as he mulled over the accusation. Loras felt terribly exposed where he was, sitting still in between the two of them, not wanting to stand for fear of heightening the tension, but also not liking sitting still, open for any violence that may ensue. _Answer carefully, Renly…_ Loras thought, watching the corner of Renly’s lips quiver, as if he was trying to stop himself from smiling.

“Well, there is a way I could have beaten you,” he began, crossing his arms over his chest, imitating the man’s pose. “See, I got a royal flush. In most places, a royal flush is capable of beating a straight flush. Maybe you should learn the rules of poker before you go accusing men of cheating.”

 Something snapped—quite literally. Loras’ chair let out a low groan followed by one of the legs cracking as it finally gave out, wood splinters flying everywhere, causing Loras to lurch backward. He had little time to react other than reach out to grab the table for support, just as the room erupted in a fit of violence, men grabbing at each other and tables being tipped over. The table Loras was desperately hanging on to tipped dangerously to the side as the losing man reached across it to get at Renly. Deciding to just let go, Loras fell back on the floor, narrowly avoiding getting a boot across the face as men scuffled, throwing punches here and kicks there, no one reaching for the gun, too caught up in the physicality of it all.

 Rolling under the table that had managed to stay upright, Loras brushed his bangs out of his face and scooted around the table legs to find Renly amongst the crowed, knowing they had to get out of there if they valued their lives. They were the ones being accused of cheating, not the other way around, and therefore it was their asses that were on the line. _See Brienne, this is why you never say cheat in a saloon,_ he thought, slipping out from under the table as soon as he saw Renly’s black boots with silver spurs.

 Rushing toward Renly, he pulled the accuser away from him and slammer his fist right into his nose—hard. He ignored the pain as the man let out a howl and stumbled backward, blood seeping out between his fingers as he cupped his nose.

 “We gotta get out of here,” Loras said, grabbing on to Renly’s shirt, tugging on him hard as they weaved through the crowed.

 “But my money,” Renly cried out, and Loras swore there was some amusement in his voice—as if he was having _fun_. Loras would be having a lot more fun if he hadn’t already managed to cause a brawl in the quiet town of Emerald, and they didn’t already have the sheriff breathing down their neck, _and_ they weren’t the ones accused of cheating.

 “We lost very little,” Loras said, dodging a flying bottle.

 Renly twisted away then, but just as Loras was about to yell at him, Renly’s hand appeared in his, warm and reassuring as they made their way through the angry crowed that was releasing some obvious pent up aggression. They probably couldn’t get away with this sort of behaviour with Stannis as their sheriff.

 Speak of the devil.

 Renly yanked Loras back from the doors as soon as they swung open, Loras toppling over on to Renly as they fell up against the wall. Stannis strode in with a shotgun in hand, Davos behind him, his revolver out as they observed the scene. Stannis took everything in in a split second before cocking the shotgun and firing it into the ceiling.

 The barmaid let out a shrill scream just as everyone froze, heads whipping around to stare at the door, eyes wide as they saw their sheriff standing at the front with a shotgun in his grasp, smoke billowing from the end. Stannis didn’t say anything as everyone moved away from each other, hands lowering and bodies separating. He just scanned the room, cold eyes inspecting the situation. And of course his eyes fell on Loras and Renly in the corner, Loras sitting on Renly’s lap as they slouched against the wall.

 The room got a lot colder, if it was at all possible, and Loras couldn’t take his eyes off the smoking barrel of the shotgun. Not for a second.  

XX

 “Stop pacing.”

 “No.”

 “Please?”

 “No.”

 “Listen to your partner and stop pacing.”

 Loras stopped and glared at the other man through the metal bars. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

 The man just shrugged and continued gently prodding his broken nose, wincing. “Well you listened—you stopped pacing.”

 Loras started up again, walking from one end of the cell to the other, boots hitting the wooden floor heavily. Loras hated being locked up. He didn’t like being closed off—confined in any way, shape or form. It was why he always had to be on the move—always had to have the sun and the sky up above him. Not some low, dark ceiling in a jail cell in the middle of a town that hated him. And he hated being locked up even more when his only hope of bail was in the cell with him.

 Renly was lounging on the old cot in the cell, feet kicked out in front of him as he casually regarded Loras. He wasn’t even fazed by the turn of events. As soon as they had been arrested he just coolly followed Davos without qualms, grinning to himself as he eyed the other man’s nose as they walked side by side. Renly had thanked Loras for punching him out, but Loras’ hand hadn’t thanked him very much. Red and sore, he ran his fingertips overtop his knuckles as he paced back and forth, hoping Stannis showed up soon so he could get the hell out of there. They weren’t the ones at fault (for a change), and there was no way Loras was going to let them be incarcerated for a stupid brawl they had no real part in.

 “Come here and sit with me,” Renly said. He sounded tired. Finally Loras stopped his pacing, sighing as he shuffled over to the cot and sat down beside Renly. Immediately Renly reached out to take Loras’ hand in his own, thumb gently touching his pink knuckles. “How did this happen?”

 “Punching him,” he said, nodding his head toward the man in the next stall.

 “I still don’t know what that was for,” the man replied, glaring at Loras through the bars.

 “You accused my partner here of cheating and then attempted to strangle him to death. I think that warrants the use of physical violence.”

 The man just snorted—or he tried to, only to catch the noise half way out, hand going to cup his nose once more as pain no doubt shot through his nasal cavity. _Good._

 Renly kept petting Loras’ hand, calloused fingertips gentle as they brushed the skin with little force. The motion soothed Loras as they sat in the cell together, and all thoughts of them being locked up for life left with each caress, the two of them ignoring the man in the cell over who was currently sending them a look of disgust.

 “We’re going to get out of here soon, don’t worry,” Renly said, kissing Loras’ knuckles. “We just have to wait for Stannis to get back and I’ll convince him to let us out.”

 “You’re putting your faith in Stannis being nice to you again?” Loras asked, a brow raised as Renly kissed his hand again. There was a fake gaging sound next to them followed by ‘fucking homosexuals’. Loras was tempted to break into the next stall and beat the shit out of the man _again_ , but Renly brought him back to the conversation at hand.

 “He has to let us out—he’s got nothing to keep us here. We didn’t start the brawl and we weren’t cheating.” He said the last part a bit louder, head turned to the side to make sure the man heard him.

 “I hope you’re right,” Loras said, cupping Renly’s cheek, pushing a few strands of hair behind his ear.

 They waited a bit longer for Stannis to return, the two of them lounging on the cot, Renly deciding they should play a game of ‘I spot’ which Loras thought he made up but didn’t question when he said it was a game everyone knew how to play. However, the game quickly became boring when they ‘spotted’ most of the things in the room. Just as Renly was about to guess the lamp on the desk for the third time, Stannis strode into his office, the door behind him slamming shut as he stood before the three men in their cells.

 Immediately the man in the cell over began explaining his position, spouting off lies that Loras quickly called him on. The two began arguing between the bars, Loras trying to get him to shut up about how they were cheaters and sexual degenerates and probably worked for Satan, so Sheriff Baratheon should let him out before they ate his soul. While this was going on Loras could see Renly out of the corner of his eye approach Stannis, the two speaking from between the bars, completely ignoring the stupid argument Loras had found himself in.

 “—and you should really just let me out of there, Sheriff Baratheon, before they finally kill me or steal all my riches or—”

 “How can we steal your riches if we’re all in jail, shit for brains?” Loras asked, making the man flush with colour.

 “You could reach through these bars and take my money!”

 “You gambled it all away—we already have all your money.”

 “S-Sheriff Baratheon, d-did you see what they did to my nose?!”

 “Be quiet, Mr. Shaw,” Stannis grumbled as he pulled his keys out and began unlocking Renly and Loras’ cell. Despite the low tenor of his voice he was still able to silence the room, both Loras and Mr. Shaw’s mouths snapping shut as soon as they heard him speak. Turning around, Loras hurried out of the cell as the door opened, relieved to have been let out.

 “H-hey, what about me, Sheriff? What about—” Once again Mr. Shaw was silenced with the raising of Stannis’ hand. Loras knew Stannis was held in high regard here, but he didn’t know how much until now.

 “Thanks for letting us out,” Renly said as he passed out the cell, grinning at his brother. Loras noticed the warmth didn’t reach his eyes, though. Heading for the door, Loras was fully prepared to get out of there just in case Stannis changed his mind, when his low voice once again caught his attention, making him stop in the middle near the door.

 “I expected better things from you, Renly.”

 The room suddenly went cold, Loras’ heart sinking in his stomach, a sick feeling washing over him. It was as if he could feel what Renly was feeling, the tremble in Renly’s hand his own as they turned to regard Stannis as he stood behind his desk, his tired gaze locked on Renly.

 “What did you say?” Renly asked, voice soft, a hint of disbelief in his tone.

  “I said I expected better things from you. You’re a Baratheon, not some outlaw who runs around getting into fights while gambling away stolen goods. You should have done better with your life.”

 Renly just stared at Stannis, eyes wide and lips parted as he tried to comprehend what Stannis had said. Loras was the same, standing near the door, hand stuck overtop the doorknob as he watched the events unfold between the two of them. Finally Renly moved, shaking his head from side to side, a laugh with no mirth slipping past his lips. “You goddamn son of a bitch,” Renly mumbled, letting out a shaky sigh. “What the fuck did you expect me to do, Stannis? What did you think I would do when I was twelve goddamn years old and you left me rotting up in the mountains? What did you expect me to do with myself?”

 “I didn’t leave you,” Stannis said, his voice still low and even despite the clenching of his jaw and the heightened tension.

 Renly let out another laugh, the coldness of it strange to Loras. Turning around, he walked across the room, running a hand through his hair before he whirled back on Stannis. “You didn’t leave me? You didn’t _leave_ me? You know, after all these years I thought you’d at least be able to admit to me of all people that you fucked up. You left me and Uncle Cressen up in that cabin once you got your job down here. I waited, Stannis—I waited months for you! I waited until Cressen died and I had to bury him when I was only eleven! I waited for you to come back and you _never did_!” Renly was yelling now, his voice cracking at the end as he finally confronted Stannis after years of separation and pent up bitterness. Loras wasn’t sure what to do as it happened, and shrunk back against the wall, not wanting to interfere but also not wanting to leave Renly all alone to face his fears.

 “And what of Robert? Why does he not incur your wrath and ire?” Stannis asked, ignoring Renly’s frantic behaviour. He was still just standing there with his same even, level tone, but that seemed to annoy Renly even more.

 “Robert was a drunk.”

 “And drunkenness is an excuse?”

 “It’s not an excuse—it’s an explanation,” Renly shot back, hands braced on his hips, eyes wide and nostrils flared. “ _You_ never gave me a reason as to why you left me.”

 Stannis finally moved then, hands leaning against the desk, knuckles white as bone. “Robert left the both of us, Renly—he did not just leave you. Don’t think I did not feel the same pain you felt when we were abandoned by him.”

 “And yet you thought it alright to abandon me right after?”

 “I did not abandon you,” Stannis said, and finally there was some emotion in his voice—a weariness there, as if he was exhausted. Tired from what, Loras couldn’t say, but for a moment he felt a pang of sympathy even when he knew he shouldn’t. This man had left Renly—left a young boy with the weight of the world on his shoulders. It was selfish and foolish to expect Renly to have not done what he did to survive. It was a dog eat dog world; there was no justice, only men who took it upon themselves to exact their own brand of it. Renly did what he had to do to make it out of a situation Stannis and Robert placed him in.

 But just as Renly looked as if he was going to hit him, Stannis continued, his voice with the same fatigue in it as he stared at his brother with emotion in his eyes; not cool indifference nor annoyance like he usually had, but _pain_. Pain and regret, and mourning. “I came to bring you the medicine, Renly. I tried to come but there was too much snow; the path was impenetrable and there was no getting through until the spring. Believe me when I say I tried my hardest to get up there, but even I cannot control the weather. As soon as spring arrived I returned, but all I found was an empty cabin and a new grave. I tried, Renly. I _tried_.”

 Renly froze then, his retaliation lost as he let out a soft puff of air as if he’d been hit in the gut. “No… no, you’re lying.”

 Stannis shook his head. “When I returned from the cabin I saw you—once. You were running away from me down the street… that was the last time I saw you. But I did not abandon you, Renly. I am sorry I was late, but I did not leave you.”

 Renly shook his head. “No…” he whispered. Turning around he shoved past Loras and left the jail, the bright light momentarily blinding Loras. As soon as the door was closing Loras was following, sending Stannis one last look of resentment before all of his attention was on Renly as he stormed down the street.

 “Renly, slow down,” Loras called, jogging to catch up, his spurs jingling loudly. Renly didn’t stop, however, and kept walking quickly down the road, heading toward a location Loras didn’t even think Renly knew. He gave up on trying to slow him and simply matched his pace, trailing behind slightly to give him space as they walked to the outskirts of the town. It was then that Renly finally stopped. Hands by his sides and fingers clenched into fists, he stared at the little trail that would eventually lead to the cabin, attention fixed on it even as Loras came to stand beside him.

 “I can’t believe it,” Renly finally muttered, voice strained. Loras could see he was trying not to cry. “I thought… I thought he’d left me. I was so sure he’d just left me. I just… I was so angry, Loras. So fucking angry with him that I wanted to believe he’d given up on me so I could give up on him. I didn’t want to believe that—that something had happened to stop him from coming.” He pause then, and Loras reached out to touch his hand gently. Immediately Renly grasped his hand, holding on to it tightly. “I never stopped to think that he hadn’t left me… a-and now that I know he hadn’t, it hurts even more, you know? Now I can’t help but think what would have happened if I hadn’t run off? W-What if I’d stayed and talked to him? Found him and just let him help me? What if I hadn’t been so full of pride?”

 Loras didn’t know what to say. He knew regret and he knew what it felt like to ponder the ‘what ifs’ in life, but he never had it like Renly had it—it had never been a case of wondering how much better life would have been had he just asked for help. With Loras it was wondering what would have happened had he not run from home, but the answers were always worse than what he had now. He wouldn’t have met Renly, wouldn’t have fallen in love, and he wouldn’t have seen the world.

 The selfish part of Loras wanted to tell Renly that if he hadn’t run from Stannis then they would have never met—that he’d probably be long since dead in some ditch after being robbed the third day he spent away from home. He wanted to tell Renly that if he hadn’t gone through his childhood years in hell, then Loras wouldn’t have been saved. But was Loras’ life worth years of emotional and physical trauma to Renly? Renly was abused for years before he became the confident man that was trembling before him—he’d been through so much before he could come to terms with what he’d done to survive. Loras didn’t know what that was like; he couldn’t imagine living his life out on the streets from the time he was twelve years old, with no support or love or commitment.

 “Would you take it all back if you could?” Loras finally asked, not sure he really wished to know the answer.

 Renly paused, his jaw working back and forth as he continued to stare at the path. Eventually his hand grew lax in Loras’ grip, and he pulled away, walking toward the path. “I don’t know…” he mumbled, continuing forward as he left Loras standing at the outskirts of the town.


	33. Somethin' Ain't Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own them
> 
> Warning: Violence
> 
> Authors Note: Sorry, I haven't been on my laptop for a few days due to final essays. I've been working on papers~! But here is a nice extra-long chapter for you all.

 Loras should have known by now that it was a terrible idea to leave Renly alone for too long. After all, the last time he’d left Renly he was almost killed in the bottom of a valley in the middle of a storm by an irate banker with a vendetta. The faith Loras placed on Renly, while high, was probably too much given he had an ability to attract trouble like a worm on a fishhook attracted giant trout with an aching stomach.

 After the revel in the jail and the subsequent fallout from it all, Loras had returned to the hotel in order to hide away, hoping to attract no further negative attention. They had to leave Emerald as soon as possible—there was no way that they could last another day here without having serious consequences. It seemed even when they were trying to play fair and not start anything, things still crumbled down around them. Perhaps they were just destine to cause trouble. Or maybe they just had really terrible luck after spending years actively seeking out saloon brawls and chances to steal and cheat. Regardless, Loras wanted out of Emerald and fast, both for the sake of their freedom, but for both their sanity. There was only so much Renly could go through and only so much Loras could support him through before something snapped.

 But Loras never had a chance to tell Renly they were leaving. He didn’t have chance to tell him anything after the confrontation in the jail. As mid-afternoon turned to early evening, and early evening turned into late night, Loras began to fret more and more the longer Renly did not return. Loras had thought it would be safe to let Renly wander off alone to collect his thoughts, but was learning quickly that it was a terrible idea. The first thing he’d been told when he reached the mountains was to never wander off into the woods alone—it was a recipe for disaster.

_So why didn’t Renly listen to his own goddamn advice?_

 Thoughts of Renly having been eaten by a cougar or a bear flashed through Loras’ mind as he fiddled with his revolver, eyes trained out the window of his room in hopes of seeing Renly sauntering down the path that was getting darker and darker as lights from local shops were being snuffed out or turned off. By the time the only lights that were still on were the ones at the entrance of the town and down at the saloon, Loras finally left his perch and headed over to Brienne’s room, hoping Renly had maybe gone to spend some time with her—a queer thought, but one that Loras would accept if it meant he hadn’t been disembowelled by a cougar.

 Rapping on the door in three quick successions, Loras waited only a moment before the door swung open to reveal Brienne still dressed and looking alert. “Uh, you’re dressed…” Loras mumbled, checking his watch to see what time it was. It was almost ten at night.

 “Yeah, I was too worried to sleep,” Brienne said, voice a bit strained.

 Loras peered at her carefully, trying to read her but unable to. “Why?”

 “I don’t know, I just have a bad feeling; there is this ache in my gut, you know? Like before something terrible happens.” That did not comfort Loras in the slightest. “Why are you here?”

 “Have you seen Renly?”

 Brienne shook her head. “No, I thought he was with you in your room…”

 “He hasn’t shown up all day. We had a… a slight confrontation down at the saloon and he went for a walk.”

 Loras thought he was going to be sick, his overly dramatic thought of Renly having been eaten not so overly dramatic anymore. What if he had been attacked by an animal or a person? Or gotten lost? For a second he didn’t know what to do, the only thought in his head that they had to find Renly, but not being able to think of _how_ they could do it. Renly could be hurt, or worse, dead, and all because Loras had let him wander off when he wasn’t in the right state of mind. The sickness and dread he’d been feeling as soon as Brienne told him she hadn’t seen him was quickly accompanied with guilt, and he felt as if he was going to crumble at any moment. Panic grabbed hold of him, cold clammy hands wrapping around his spine, shaking him violently as he tried to think about what he could do.

  _We have to find Renly—we have to go and we have to find him. We just have to find him._

  “Loras, are you alright?” Brienne’s hand touched Loras’ shoulder hesitantly, but it was enough to make Loras calm down a bit, her steadiness a source of strength.

 “We have to find Renly,” he said, swallowing the sour spit in the back of his throat.

 “Do you know where he went?” she asked, going into her room to grab her hat and her gun.

 Loras shook his head and went to his room, grabbing what he needed before hurrying down the hallway, speaking over his shoulder as Brienne trailed behind. “Last I saw him he was headed into the woods, taking the East exit out of the town—up toward one of the mountains, I forget the name.”

 Renly called it ‘Shut Yer Trap’, but Loras was certain that wasn’t the actual name.

 “When did he leave?”

 “Uh, shortly after lunch? I don’t remember, I was a bit distracted,” he admitted as they left the hotel

“We should go to the Sheriff’s office maybe?” she asked, standing beside Loras as he paused in the middle of the roadway. Glancing down the road in each direction, Loras hoped that he’d see Renly coming down the lane, but there was no sign of him. Reaching into his pocket, he wrapped his fingers around his cross and sent out a quick prayer before finally responding to Brienne.

 “Stannis… I don’t think so. Stannis wouldn’t know,” Loras mumbled, a spark of red catching his attention. Turning, he saw Melisandre standing outside her church, watching them. The unease Brienne said she’d been feeling worked its way into Loras as soon as he saw her, and for some reason he just knew she had something to do with it. “Call me paranoid, but I think we’d find more information in a church.”

 “Loras, praying right now isn’t going to save Renly,” Brienne said, following Loras as he trudged toward Melisandre. Melisandre stayed where she was on the deck, her fingers clutching a folded up piece of paper, Loras’ hazel eyes locked with Melisandre’s icy blue.

 “Where is Renly?” he asked as soon as he was close enough, voice dangerously low. He wasn’t about to hit a lady, but that didn’t mean he didn’t _want_ to.

 Melisandre simply passed the folded up piece of paper to Loras, her eyes skirting up to Brienne for a moment. Loras had never been so happy to have her around, her intimidating presence a comfort to Loras as he snatched the paper from her grasp and opened it with steady hands. His heart sank as soon as he saw what was on the tattered note.

 There was a drawing on it of a young man with long black hair and a grin on his face, and beside his profile was the quick drawing of a belt buckle with stag antlers on a plain background inside the large oval. The words ‘Wanted’ were carefully written on top, followed by a hefty reward at the bottom—five thousand dollars in big bold numbers.

 “Your partner has quiet the bounty on his head down south, it seems,” Melisandre said. Loras looked up expecting to see her smirking. She wasn’t, instead she seemed bored with the entire affair; as if setting a bounty hunter on Renly had been an inconvenience for her.

 “Why?”

 “I told you two to leave before you caused any trouble, but it appears as if you did not heed my warning. You stayed for too long and you gave the bounty hunters more than enough time to catch up to you. I only pointed them in the direction of your companion—nothing more or less.”

 “But why?”

 “Why?” Melisandre repeated, her brow quirked. “Mr. Tyrell, do I have to remind you that you are an outlaw and a degenerate? You steal and cheat and I dare say you’ve killed more than a few men in your lifetime. Your partner Renly is just the same, and no matter how you excuse it, it will never be enough. You are criminals, Mr. Tyrell, and no one should stand for such behaviour. Justice is being exacted as we speak, and I see no reason to not applaud the work of the bounty hunter for catching Mr. Renly Baratheon. There are lines drawn in the dirt that our Lord and Savour created for us, and you cannot just walk across all of them when you see fit. Your time of impertinence is over, and it is time Renly faced what you both know has been coming.”

 Loras’ fist closed around the piece of paper, the crunch of it under his grasp doing little to ease the rage that had built up inside him. The smug look of satisfaction that washed over her face as she quite literally talked down to him made Loras wanted to strike her and never stop. He just wanted to hit her again and again and again like he had when he found Tywin Lannister pointing a gun at Renly, and when the boy back home had offended him. He wanted to let out all the anger and frustration he had for the world and for his own mistakes out on her coldly beautiful face.  

 But hurting her would accomplish nothing but make Loras feel sick with himself, and give Melisandre a reason to lock him up. He would never hit a woman and she knew that. Instead he focused all his energies into finding Renly. He’d made a promise to the man when they first met that he’d protect him, and he wasn’t about to go back on that promise—not now. Swallowing his anger, he tossed the wanted poster down at her feet and turned around, heading down the path toward the only place he could go for help.

 “You cannot and should not save him,” Melisandre called after him.

 “I have to try,” Loras said as he turned around to walk backward. “Because you see, Ms. Melisandre, I may be a liar and a killer and a sodomite, but I never, ever break a promise, and I made a promise to my lover long ago and I’m going to see to it that I don’t break it. After all, like you said, we all gotta draw a line somewhere.”

 Whirling back around he continued onward, not waiting to see if Brienne was following. He suspected she was just as nervous as he was, her devotion to Renly, although at times maddening, was welcome now. Loras could trust her to protect Renly; he didn’t feel so alone this time.

 Pushing the door of the jail open, Loras strode in without even waiting for an invitation to come in. He found Stannis sitting on the other side of his desk, head bowed as he scribbled away on documents of some kind, the top of his head reflecting the low candlelight. As soon as Loras and Brienne entered he was staring at them, his brow quirked as he gently placed his pencil down on the desk. “What is it?”

 “Renly—he’s been taken,” Loras said, striding forward to stand before him in the cramped room. “Some bounty hunters came up from down South and have taken him.”

 There was a brief flash of something in Stannis’ gaze before it was snuffed out by cool indifference, gone too quickly for Loras to discern what it was. “He’s a wanted man, Mr. Tyrell. These things happen.”

 “These things just don’t happen,” Loras said. He couldn’t believe Stannis had just said that—as if he didn’t care that his brother was being carted off to go work in a camp or worse, executed. As if he had no attachment to his younger brother; a brother who he had said he never abandoned. “Ms. Melisandre directed the hunter to where Renly was—she was the one who gave him up.”

 “She was simply following the law,” Stannis grumbled out, his low voice grating, like gravel underneath the wheels of a cart. “There is nothing we can do now.”

 “Bullshit!” he yelled, slamming his hands down on the desk, making it rattle and groan under the pressure. Immediately Stannis was rising, hand straying to his gun as he stared down Loras. Loras did not waver under his gaze, however, and stayed completely still, palms spread out on the desk. He had no idea how fast Stannis could draw, but he didn’t fancy testing him on it. He could feel Brienne’s tension against his back, coming off of her like waves as she no doubt reached for her gun, too. Straightening just a fraction, he raised his chin, trying to make up for the height difference. “You know as well as I do what they are going to do to Renly if they get him back down South. At best, they’ll hang him, at worst, they’ll stick him in a camp and work him to death.” He felt his voice wavering but he held on tight, trying not to think about the worst that could happen. He wasn’t even going to let himself imagine what Renly would go through in one of the workers camps, having heard horror stories even when he was a young boy. There was no surviving them—not with your soul intact that was. They broke you in every way possible. “I can’t let them take him,” he whispered.

 Stannis’ fingers slipped away from his side then, and Loras heard Brienne shift behind him, her stance relaxing as well. Starting at each other, Loras tried to find that spark in Stannis like he always saw in Renly. That little tiny glimpse of humanity and joy and a love of life that Renly had; that kept him going and made him human. He tried to find it in the same blue hues before him.

 And it _was_ there—just a flash of it, barely there but still present. Like a cobweb that clung to a tree—a single strand blowing gently in the wind that you could feel but couldn’t see. He watched as Stannis mulled over what Loras had said, no doubt the same thoughts churning around in his mind like the ones Loras had. Finally he moved, a long breath blowing out his nose as he sat back down, his attention going to the forms before him.

 “I cannot help you.”

 Loras felt like he’d been hit in the gut. The pain was insurmountable, and for the first time since Renly walked away Loras felt lost. Completely and utterly lost and without hope of any kind. He wanted to scream. His chest ached and it felt like his throat was closing in on him, tight and tense as he just stared at Stannis, chest heaving with each deep breath he took as he desperately tried to stay afloat.

 Stannis was truly indifferent to his brother.

 Shaking his head, he moved away from the desk, every breath hurting. “You said you never abandoned him, Stannis… You should have made good on your word.”

 He turned then, unable to look at Stannis further. He had to leave—had to get out of the office and get some fresh air. Maybe then things wouldn’t look so mind numbingly hopeless then. But just as he reached for the door he heard something—the quietest of sighs that stopped him. Fingers hovering over the handle, he turned slightly, looking at Stannis through his tangled curls.

 “ _If_ Renly is still alive and the bounty hunters mean to bring him down South, he will be heading toward a town called Iron Belt, a day’s ride if you take the trail down south. It is a mining town and there is a train station there.”

XX

 They both agreed it was stupid, and yet they were doing it anyways.

 Riding down the twisting trail in the middle of the night, Brienne and Loras weaved their horses through the forest, ducking branches when they could see them and slowing their horses in time to take tight turns to stay on the path. If they lost the path they were doomed. Loras felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest as they drew closer to the town. There was no telling what condition Renly would be in; there wasn’t even a guarantee he’d still be alive or they would even be at the town.

_But we have to keep going. I haven’t lost him before—I’ve always found him. It won’t be any different this time. We just have to keep going._

Ricochet wasn’t lagging as they rode up hills and back down, narrowly missing the roots that curled upward from the trees and peeked through the ground, treacherous for rider and horse as they navigated through the dark. Brienne was behind him the entire time, her own horse trailing well enough through the forest. They weren’t saying anything was they rode, both too caught up in what they were doing to even dare conversing.

 It was so dumb what they were doing, but it was the only thing they could do. They had to make it to Iron Belt before the train left in the morning; there was no other option.

 But just as the woods seem to close in on them, the branches beginning to look like skeletal fingers reaching out to grasp them, while every brush of the wind through the leaves sounded like a predator come to claim them, the woods began to open up and a light was seen in the distance.

 Pulling their lathered horses up, Loras and Brienne both stared across the way at the flickering fire in between the trees, a gentle trail of smoke billowing upward. Loras couldn’t see too well, but he noted four men by the fire and six or seven horses tethered to the trees close by. He could hear a hushed conversation taking place if he listened carefully enough, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying, the distance too great.

 “What do you think?” he whispered to Brienne.

 “I don’t know…” she whispered back, and Loras could hear the trepidation in her voice mixed in with a bit of hope.

_Maybe these are our guys…_

The fact that they could have just stumbled upon them was too good to be true, but Loras couldn’t help but get excited. The men didn’t have that much of a lead on the two of them—they’d have had to have caught Renly first and get him on the back of one of their horses—a feat which would have no doubt taken some time.

 That was assuming they hadn’t just shot him.

 “I’ll be right back,” Loras said, slipping off his horse. Resting his hat on the horn of his saddle, he gave his reigns to Brienne as he attempted to take his spurs off, the jingling sound they made far too loud.

 “If they are the men, what are you going to do?”

 “Kill them.”

 “Send me a signal before you do,” Brienne said, taking the spurs that were offered to her. “You can’t take all of them yourself.”

 He sighed, knowing she was right. “Fine, but you hang back as much as possible—I don’t want you killing people if you don’t have to. I’ll whistle for you, alright?” Brienne wasn’t a killer—not like they were. She shouldn’t even have to be in this mess, but then again, she chose to travel with the two of them knowing who they were and what they did. She was allowed to make her own decisions and Loras wasn’t there to reprimand her for them. Judge, perhaps, but not reprimand.

 As soon as she agreed he slipped into the shadows the thicker trees provided, feeling his way until his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness once more. Making his way toward the campfire, he moved as slowly as he could, trying to stop his nerves from betraying him by making him move faster than he ought to. One misstep and he could be riddled full of bullets. If they could see him, that was. The trees were awfully thick, and the moonlight did little to penetrate through the grove he found himself in. But the light from the fire was growing brighter as he moved between the shadows, and their voices were becoming clearer. Stopping a short distance away, he deliberately crouched down on the padded ground and listened, his eyes trained on the four men still awake around the fire.

 It seemed Loras’ luck hard run out then. They had stopped talking by the time he’d reached them, all four of them staring into the fire, lost in their own little world. But he could still see the men well enough. They were dressed for travel, their clothing worn and practical, while guns hung off of them like they’d been born with them. Ammo belts glittered in the firelight, and Loras knew they weren’t just some regular travelers. They looked too much like himself and Renly to be just regular men out to see the mountains or trade some goods. He couldn’t see any other men, however, despite there being three extra horses. A second horse for carrying goods, perhaps, but not three extra horses for only four men. There had to be more.

 He stayed still for a little longer, just observing them, hoping they would begin to speak again. They didn’t. Holding back a sigh he scanned the tents off in the distance, figuring maybe the others had gone to bed. It was approaching one in the morning, after all. Moving from his resting spot he made a wide circle around the camp, trying to see if he could get a good view in between the canvases that rested across horizontal poles. He started to feel a hum as he drew closer to the tents, the pounding in his chest returning, making his palms itch as he went to slide on his stomach, keeping as low as possible.

 In the first tent were two men, both of them sleeping on their backs, soft snores blowing past their lips as they lay on their thin cots. They were still heavily armed even as they slept, the glow from the fire outside reflecting off their ammo belts and the guns that rested near their heads. Neither looked like Renly, however, and Loras continued onward toward the second of the four tents, hoping there would be something or someone inside it that would tell him for sure this was the camp he was looking for.

 Reaching the second tent he stayed low to the ground, scanning the inside, the light from the fire further away, making everything darker. For a second he spotted nothing of interest until he realized one of the bed rolls was actually a person. That was when the image fell into place. Hands tied behind his back and legs tied together, Renly lay limp inside the tent, his face hidden from view mostly by his hair.

  It took all of Loras’ strength to not bolt out of the bushes and untie Renly right away. _He’s alive_ , Loras thought, relief flushing through his system, _He’s alive and I’ve found him._ He knew that he should go back to Brienne and tell her the news, but the urge to act was crawling along his skin like insects, prickling along his scalp, making his palms tingle. He needed to save Renly, no doubt about it, but how he went about it was crucial.

 Sliding away from the tent, he went back to his previous spot where he could see the men by the fire, one of them with his back to Loras, his head a dark silhouette. He could easily take the man out if he wanted, and Loras felt his hand straying toward his revolver as he thought about it. He could whistle, blow the brains out of the fucking whoreson who had taken Renly, and then pray to God the rest of them had shit aim. If he stuck to the shadows he could easily weave between the trees and keep them guessing as to where he was, and with Brienne and her trusted shotgun off on the other side of the camp, the two would be enough of a distraction to confuse them and make them open themselves up more.

 Deciding it was a good plan, even though the risk of getting shot even by Brienne by accident was incredibly high, Loras pressed his fingers in between his lips and let out a shrill whistle just as he stood and aimed right for the man’s head with no hesitation.

There was a shower of red as soon as he’d cocked back the hammer and pressed the trigger. Hitting the man right in the back of the head, he slumped forward and almost fell into the fire, his fellow campers all rising, shouting at each other to get their guns. One of them spotted Loras, but a shotgun blast from the left distracted them long enough that Loras could roll away back into the dark forest, narrowly avoiding a bullet to the shoulder as it skimmed by him.

_Like shooting flowers off of a cactus_ , he thought as he stumbled into a tree, managing to stand upright after almost hitting his head on a tree root. Hiding behind a spruce, he held on to his revolver tightly, listening as the men finally composed themselves and stopped hollering. Brienne seemed to be holding off, too, and Loras peeked around the tree to see the five men had made a circle around the fire, all of them ignoring their fallen comrade. These men were definitely in the business of catching criminals, their attention not even on the dead man but rather whoever was in the trees.

 “Didn’t anyone ever tell you outlaws usually come in pairs or more?” Loras called, slipping from his hiding place to find another one closer to the men.

 He heard one of the men chuckle, a hoarse sound that sent shivers down his spine as he hid behind another tree. “And so the Stag’s Rose has come to save him, has he?”

 “So you’ve heard of me,” he replied, taking a shot at one of the men. He missed, and was rewarded with a spray of bullets against the trunk of the tree he was hiding behind. Rolling away, he went to find a new spot, moving like the shadows did inside the forest.

 “There was a wanted poster out there for The Rose, but we figured we got what we came for so we might as well just go home. Besides, your partner is worth more than you are.”

 Loras felt slightly offended by that. “How much am I going for?”

 “Just a thousand. We figured you’d show up though, and we could take the both of you back home. There are rumours going ‘round that the Stag treats his Rose like a lady.”

 Loras took aim again, this time hitting one of the men in the back. He fell down with a cry of pain, but Loras couldn’t see if he managed to kill the man, his attention fixed on ducking out of the way of another hail of bullets. Brienne took another shot off in the distance, spooking the men long enough for Loras to take a look and see the other man was down and not moving very much.

 Scuttling off to another tree he stayed still and quiet, trying to make it so the men had no idea where he was. It was harder than he thought it would be, the four men who were left not giving Loras much of a chance to pick them off. He continued to hide behind a tree, breathing low and even as he waited for another opportunity. It seemed the time for small-talk was over, no one saying a thing as they all watched and waited.

 The blast of a rifle cracked through the forest.

 Jumping, Loras dropped on to the ground, the howl of one of the men accompanying the echo of the rifle as he fell. Lifting his head, Loras froze, wondering where the rifle had come from, his eyes wide and his heart hitting his chest a mile a minute.

 “Where did you get the rifle?” one of them screamed.

_I have no idea._ Grabbing his bearings, he peeked around the tree and took another shot at one of the men, noticing very briefly that there was another man added to the pile of dead bodies. His shot was true, however, and the man went down with no scream, the side of his head matted in blood. But just as he was about to shoot for the other two stunned men, another went down as the rifle cracked through the air.

 The last man tried to make a run for it. Rushing toward his horse, he got up on it, only managing to whirl his horse around before he too fell, Loras and the hidden gunmen taking him out together as he crashed down to the earth below, the horse screaming in terror.

 There was a pause in the action, Loras still lying low on the ground, bits of pine needles and little leaves stuck in his hair from when he fell after the first rifle shot was taken. Panting heavily, he closed his mouth, trying to stay as still and as quiet as possible wanting to figure out if it was safe to come out. None of the men moved as they all lay around the fire, a crumpled heap of limbs and shattered bones. He wasn’t sure if he should move out of the shadows, the person with the rifle still hidden, but the urge to get to Renly has grown far too great, and he found himself standing even as his instincts told him to stay low for just a while longer.

 “Are you alright, Brienne?” he called as soon as he was standing, still slinked back in the shadows.

 “I’m fine,” she called from toward Loras’ left. As soon as he heard that he hurried into the campsite, jumping over the bodies of the fallen men in his attempt to get to Renly.

 Sliding into the tent, he rolled Renly over and began to untie his wrists and feet, noticing he had been gagged. “That was why you were so quiet,” he said, relief in his voice as he ripped the bonds that held Renly’s hands together apart. As soon as his hands were untied Renly was reaching up to pull the gag away, coughing out bits of fabric as he did so, grimacing.

 “I was certainly yelling into this,” he said just before he grabbed Loras and pulled him in for a fierce kiss. Tangling his fingers in Renly’s dark locks, Loras relaxed in the embrace, his hands shaking as the adrenaline worked out of him.

 “God, I thought I lost you,” Loras whispered when they broke apart, once again resuming his untying of Renly’s legs. It was harder now that his hands were shaking, but he managed to loosen the tight knots, the rest of the rope falling.

 “I thought I was done for, too,” he admitted, pulling Loras in for another kiss as soon as his ankles were free. The kiss turned into a hug, Renly wrapping his arms tightly around Loras, his face pressed against his shoulder, the two holding on to each other. “But then I remembered I had you, and I knew you’d come back for me.”

 “I’ll always come back for you,” Loras mumbled, breathing in Renly’s familiar scent. He didn’t want to let go of Renly, the fact that he was once again in his arms, alive and well and seemingly in good spirits, too good to be true. He didn’t want to admit it to anyone, not even himself, but he had his moments of doubt. There was always the chance that he wouldn’t have found Renly, and if it hadn’t been for Stannis giving them a direction to go in, it was certain he’d have been lost to the bounty hunters for good.

 The snap of a branch broke the two apart, however, both on high alert after the shootout. Turning around, Loras reached for his revolver out of instinct, but staved his hand as soon as he saw who was standing near the fire. Brienne was the first noticeable person, her straw colour hair reflecting the glow of the fire that continued to burn. But beside her stood two men, their eyes scanning the area, one of them going over to kick at the first man Loras had shot.

 Stannis and his deputy Davos.

 “Stannis?” Renly whispered, eyes wide, disbelief written clearly across his bruised face.

 Stannis turned then, his eyes locking with Renly’s, the two just staring at each other. There was a rifle in his hand. “Renly.”

 “What are you… I mean…” Leaving the tent, Renly stumbled into a standing position. “Why?”

 Stannis’ eyes flicked over to Loras for a moment, Loras still sitting in the tent, fingers loosely wrapped around the rope that had bonded Renly. “I told you I had never abandoned you,” Stannis said, shoving his rifle under his arm casually. “I did not make it in time to help you when you needed me the first time. I made sure I would not repeat the same mistake.”

 Loras couldn’t see Renly’s face, but he could hear the tremor in his voice as he spoke. “Thank you, Stannis. And thank you, Deputy,” he added at the end, nodding toward Davos. Davos nodded in return, although he looked terribly confused about the entire event. Loras had a feeling he and Davos had more in common than either would like to admit—both tied to a Baratheon, for better or for worse.

 “You’re welcome, Renly. Besides, these men apparently caused some trouble coming up here and were hunting you illegally. I had to do it anyways.”

Loras thought a bit of the sentiment was lost then, but he supposed that was how the Baratheons functioned—not very well and with no touching. Clambering out of the tent, Loras patted Brienne on the arm, thanking her quietly at Stannis and Renly just regarded each other in a new light.

“We should get out of here,” Loras suggested, wanting to be as far away from this place as possible. He was also desperate to go to bed, the adrenaline leaving him exhausted. Stannis grunted, already turned around as he and Davos made their way toward their horses—wherever they were. Clearly whatever moment Stannis had just had with Renly was over.

 “You should take one of their horses,” Loras suggested as they passed the still tethered animals. “I don’t think Ricochet is going to want to carry us both.”

 “But I thought you were my lady, Loras. I thought you were supposed to ride side saddle with me,” Renly cooed.

 Loras rolled his eyes and gently shoved Renly. “Excuse me, but I think you’re more the damsel in distress. How many times have I had to come rescue you?”

 “Only a few times, and only because I was caught off guard. If I had known those men were coming I can guarantee they’d have all been dead before they could cry for their mammas.”

 “That’s quite the feat and requires some amazing gun skills to accomplish. How come I’ve never seen you use those skills?”

 “I’m hiding them, Loras—waiting for the perfect chance to bring them out,” Renly said, looking entirely too smug with himself. Before Loras could further criticize him, however, he changed the topic, obviously knowing he was going to lose eventually. “Which horse should I pick?”

 “Whichever—” The blinding pain registered with Loras before the sound of the gun did. Spiking through his gut the sting was so intense that for just a second he thought he’d been thrown down to Hell. But it let up as soon as it had come, numbness replacing the fiery pain as he reached down to touch his side. His fingers were sticky, and he looked down to see dark liquid seeping in between his fingers.

  _Well this isn’t right_ , was the last thing he thought before he lost consciousness.


	34. Sunset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own 'em
> 
> Warnings: None
> 
> Authors Note: Sorry it's late again! Should be the last late one! Two more chapters to go after this. Thanks again so much for the support and the feedback-- you're all fantastic.

_“They say you always dream.”_

_Loras shifted against the rough fence post, his head bowed, fingers locked, palms pushing hard together then gently separating. He didn’t feel the pressure. “Who are ‘they’?”_

_“I don’t know. People just say it.”_

_Turning, Loras tried to see Renly, but the sun was too bright, his face hidden by shadows, a halo of light around his head. Loras had no choice but to look back down at his hands, his eyes watering. “What do you dream about?” he asked, elbows digging into the rough, old wood that made up the fence. He didn’t feel that either._

_“I dream of you.”_

_Loras smiled, Renly’s fingertips gently brushing a curl away from his cheek, tucking it behind his ear. This he felt. “Go on…”_

_“I dream of you… I dream of how your skin feels against my hands, how your muscles move beneath my fingertips as we push and pull and strain on sheets of silk…” Renly’s breath ghosted over Loras’ cheek, lips brushing the curve of his jaw, his nose gently nuzzling his temple. All of this he felt. “I dream of how the sun makes your curls look like tendrils of molten gold, lighting you up like a treasure that is all mine… I dream of the light in your hazel eyes and how you look at me… I dream of your laugh and your smile, I dream of your grace and your love… I dream of what we have and what we could have… I dream of you every night, my Little Rose.”_

_“I dream of you, too,” Loras said, his voice a breathless whisper. He’d closed his eyes and yet he could still see his surroundings—the long grass and the flying insects, the hot sun and the rough fence. All this he saw and yet he knew his eyes remained closed, whether by his own volition or not, he could not say._

_Renly did not smile, how Loras knew this he did not know, but he was laughing, a low, soft chuckle against his neck, so rich and full of mirth. Loras curled against the sound, his body limp and relaxed as Renly supported him. “What is it you see?” Renly asked, his fingers gliding against his now bare skin as a cold chill from the evening air began to glide against his sudden nudity._

_“I just see you,” he whispered. He felt as if Renly was now hovering above him, his lips barely brushing his own as they lay in the tall grass, their naked forms just inches apart. “I just see you.”_

_“But you don’t,” Renly replied, a sadness in his voice that made Loras ache with pain. This he also felt. “You don’t see me, Loras.”_

_The pain began to increase, a dull thud on his side that seemed to lap around his limbs, every breath he took harder than the last. He could not feel the grass beneath him nor the caress of the wind. All he could feel was a throbbing, harsh and insistent._

_“You need to open your eyes, Loras,” Renly said, and Loras could feel fingers stroking through his hair, slow and steady and continuous. “You need to open your eyes to see me… Please, Loras… open your eyes for me?”_

_He tried. He tried but the ache was too much. Every breath hurt him further, the stitch in his side like a knife between his ribs that was twisting tighter with each breath. He desperately wanted to open his eyes but couldn’t. “I can’t,” he said, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “I can’t, Renly.”_

_“Yes you can, Loras, you have to. You can’t leave me now; I need you to come back now. You promised me you’d always come back for me. Don’t leave me, Little Rose, don’t—”_

 Loras woke with a start, a chocked sob slipping past his lips as dark colours and bright lights flashed across his vision. He couldn’t feel anything for a moment, the sense of nothingness that seemed to fog his mind continuing to hang over him. The sob turned into a cough, Loras taking sucking in a breath as pain spiked through him. That was when the twinge came back, right under his ribs on his left side, each breath laborious as he stared up at the wooden ceiling.

 “Fuck,” he whispered, mind muddled, no idea where he was or what had happened. The pain continued to rush through him with each strained breath, adding to the panic that began to replace the foggy haze of his dreams. But just as he thought it was too much—just as he thought he was truly alone—a hand slipped into his own, strong and tight and reassuring.

 Squeezing back, he blinked back the fear and opened his eyes to see Renly’s worried face floating above his.

 “Loras?” Renly whispered. Hearing Renly’s voice—so strong and real—made Loras suddenly break out into tears, the reality of everything finally settling in. Immediately Renly was fretting, tears in his own eyes as he tried to soothe Loras, fingers sliding through his curls while kissed were applied gently to his forehead and cheeks and the tip of his nose.

Wrapping his arms tightly around Renly, he reveled in the solidity of him as he held on tight, ignoring the pain as he held Renly in his arms. “I can see you,” he whispered.

XX

Three days. That was how long he’d been gone.

 Renly had told him this just before he rushed out of the room to get Loras some food. He wasn’t hungry before, but as soon as the broth with bits of carrot and potato was placed in front of him, he suddenly found he was ravenous. Sitting up in the bed with a pile of pillows propping him up, he ate his food as slowly as possible so as not to upset his stomach, while Renly explained what had happened, his hand grasping Loras’ thigh gently.

 “You were shot by one of the bounty members. You hadn’t killed him; he just got shot in the arm and I… I don’t know, he must have just waited and taken aim while our backs were turned,” Renly explained, running a hand through his hair. It looked shorter to Loras. “I thought we kicked their guns away but—God, I don’t know, all I really remember was you collapsing and thinking I’d lost you.”

 Loras frowned around the piece of bread in his mouth. Swallowing, he rested his hand on top of Renly’s own. “It would take a lot more than some bad aim to kill me.”

 “But it was close, Loras. I don’t think you realize _how_ close it was. We tried to stop the bleeding as much as we could with some strips of cloth, and we got you on a horse with me and we just ran, Loras. I don’t think I’ve ever pushed a horse that hard before. We made it to Emerald in an hour that horse ran so goddamn fast. By the time I got you to the doctor you were… you were in bad shape. You were pale and going in and out of consciousness. Your lips were _blue_ , Loras.”

 This time Loras was frowning around a potato chunk. Dropping his spoon back in the broth, he sighed and pushed the food away on the little table that straddled his lap on the bed. He wasn’t very hungry anymore. “But I’m fine now, Renly. I’m awake and I feel alright. Sore, of course, and a bit disoriented, but I don’t feel like I’m going to die.”

 “You could get an infection. The doctor said there is a chance of that,” Renly said, his grip on Loras’ leg tight.

 “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you wanted me de—”

 “Don’t,” Renly said sharply. His eyes were hard then, the desperation in his voice silencing Loras. “I mean… don’t make jokes, not right now. Not yet.”

 “Okay,” he replied. It was then that Loras realized Renly probably hadn’t been sleeping well the last few days. There were bags under his brilliant blue eyes, stubble across his jaw, and his glossy black hair had lost its shine, while there was a purple bruise across his temple, just hidden by his hair. And the length of his hair…“You cut your hair,” he mumbled, Renly furrowing his brows at the sudden change in conversation. Instead of it being long and tied back in his trademark braid, his hair was loose, the locks raggedly cut to frame his face and tickle his neck.

 “Oh, right,” he said, touching the tips of his hair absentmindedly. “One of the bounty hunters cut off my braid, treating it like a souvenir I guess. I thought you noticed, but I guess it was dark before you got… A-Anyways, I think it’s for the best, don’t you think? Shed some of that excess weight.”

 “Sort of symbolic, isn’t it?” Loras said as Renly moved to take the food away, setting it down on a table in the room. Loras figured they were in the doctor’s house judging by the extravagance of the place. The walls were covered in fine wallpaper and the furniture was dark, rich oak. Not many people could afford to live so plush, especially up in the mountains.

 “How do you mean?” Renly asked, climbing on to the patient bed with Loras, moving slowly so as not to jostle Loras around. Eventually his head was resting on Loras’ shoulder, his body pressed tightly against his healthy side. It felt good to touch Renly like this, and Loras rested his cheek on the top of his head, breathing in his scent.

 “I just feel like we’ve come to another corner in our adventures. You’ve found some closure with your past, we’ve told each other everything, we’re on our way to California… time to cut the ties to your past, and what better way than cutting off that braid of yours?”

 Renly lifted his head, kissing Loras’ jaw. “Do you like it?”

 “I like it,” he said, meaning it.

 He was starting to feel tired again, the twinge in his side annoying him now more than anything. All the excitement of having woken was taking its toll, and the food wasn’t helping with the drowsiness. “I dreamed of you,” he said.

 “Funny, I dreamed of you, too. I dream of you every night, my Little Rose.” The brush of Renly’s lips against the corner of his jaw made Loras relax further, and the last thing he heard was Renly asking him to stay awake for the doctor.

 But it was too late, Loras having drifted back to sleep. This time he could see Renly as he dreamed.

XX

“It itches.”

 “It’ll itch for a while.”

 “Make it stop?”

 Renly chuckled as he helped Loras with the buttons on his shirt. Loras was going to tell him that he could do it himself, but the way Renly was doting over him hadn’t become tiring yet, and so he enjoyed how careful Renly was with him as he dressed for the first time after being shot. He spent the rest of the day napping, the doctor having come in to look at the wound and dress the bandages again. Loras was fascinated with the wound, wishing he could see the entry cut on his back, but Renly wouldn’t even look at it long enough to describe it to him. Apparently stitches were as bad to look at as blood was.

 But the doctor had only been able to keep him in bed for the day. In the morning as soon as Renly came to visit him he was getting up, desperate to leave the stuffy room and smell the mountain air again. He’d come too close to dying and he wasn’t about to waste away in a room. The doctor didn’t seem too happy, but Renly promised to keep Loras away from any saloon brawls and bank heists. The doctor laughed—he probably thought Renly was joking.

 “I can’t make it stop—the itching is good, though. Means your healing,” Renly said, helping Loras stand. It hurt more than he thought it would, but he suspected his back muscles weren’t too happy with him, the stretch of the injury irritating. But he gritted his teeth and continued to dress, feeling more like himself as soon as everything was back on.

 “It seems my body is constantly trying to heal itself as of late. If it is not my face getting smashed in, it’s a bullet wound to the side. If it’s not a bullet wound, it’s you pushing me off the bed in the middle of the night by accident.”

 “That was one time,” Renly said, hovering over Loras as he put his hat on.

 The familiar pressure of the hat against his temples completed Loras’ transition back to his normal self, and he walked with as much confidence as he could muster to the door. “It’s happened three times, Renly. Once when we first shared a bed, a second time while we were…” Loras didn’t finish the last part as they stepped out into the hallway, voice lowering as he sauntered down the hallway with Renly, “and the third time was last week when you had a nightmare.”

 “Well the nightmare is not my fault,” Renly said, still hovering as they descended down the stairs, Loras holding on to the railing just for extra support. It wasn’t as if he really needed it, but Renly looked as if he was getting ready to carry Loras down, fearing the worst. Loras had no idea what could possibly happen to him, but clearly Renly still believed he was mere moments away from keeling over and dying.

 “And those are only the times you knocked me out of bed. I can’t keep track of the amount of times you’ve elbowed me or kicked me or bitten me,” Loras continued, opening the door of the grand house. Immediately Loras felt better, the scents of the open air something to cherish as the pine, dirt and tobacco from a man’s pipe greeted him. He’d have taken in a lungful had the pull on his side not stopped him, Loras catching his breath just in time for Renly not to hear the grunt of pain. He knew if he made any sort of mention of discomfort he’d be carted back inside. “Come on, let’s go to the lake.”

 The walk was taken slowly, more because Loras wanted to soak everything in than the stitch on his side. While it itched and ached it wasn’t terribly painful—just annoying more than anything. He loathed thinking about what riding a horse would feel like on his lower back, but didn’t voice his worries to Renly. As soon as they reached the lake Loras wandered down to the bank, searching for flat, thin stones in which to skip across the bank, a trick Renly had taught him what seemed like years ago. It was probably only a month or so.

 Renly did the same, although Loras could feel his eyes on him most of the time, his hand hovering outward now and again, as if to catch Loras should he fall. But he stayed upright well enough and managed to scrounge up a few stones the local children still hadn’t found. Weighing his collection in his hand, he stared out at the emerald coloured lake, enjoying the beauty _. I wish we could stay…_

 His sudden thought startled him, the notion of staying anywhere foreign to Loras. He didn’t want to stay—not forever—but in that moment he wasn’t too eager to leave just yet, either. Playing with one of the stones, he rubbed his thumb along the smooth edge, lips pursed as he toyed with the feeling of wanting to belong somewhere, if just for a moment. He had never really belonged anywhere, really. While he loved his family he never felt a part of the community he was in, everything far too stifling for him and contrary to his views—views he hadn’t yet come to embrace, but were lurking down below. He took to the wandering lifestyle well enough, and Loras felt like he fit in that mold. Just he and Renly, always on the move, never stopping for too long or getting to know other people for an extended period of time.

 It felt good to be an outcast in a way; to not quite fit. It made Loras feel superior, almost. He felt better than most, as if he and Renly were in leagues of their own. No one was as interesting or as fascinating as they were, and no one would ever have the stories they had. But there _was_ something to settling down and eventually returning to a slow lifestyle. 

Children on the other side of the lake broke Loras from his musings; their shrill screams of joy making him want to toss them all in the lake.

 Maybe he wasn’t ready to settle after all.

 “I think that bullet did more damage to my mental state than anything,” Loras said.

 “I think you were already certifiably crazy before the bullet wound,” Renly replied, skipping a stone across the water, eyes narrowed in concentration. He got four skips.

 “Only because of you,” Loras shot back, skipping the stone he’d been fiddling with. His side pulled, but he hid the grimace with a triumphant smile as the rock went further than Renly’s had.

 Renly laughed, sending his next stone further than Loras’, a small competition building between the two. “You can’t blame all your strange habits on me,” he said, “I mean, what is with your obsession with people’s hair? Your hair, my hair—you really love hair.”

 “Just because I like to comb your hair doesn’t mean I am obsessed,” he said, blushing a bit. It was true, he did have a thing for hair. “But what about you and your peppermint leaves obsession?”

 “Fresh breath every day is a god send, my Little Rose. Besides, I see you stealing a few now and again—may taste strong, but it makes our kisses mighty sweet.”

 “You’re also the one who talks in his sleep.”

 Renly blushed and skipped another rock. “Yeah, well I never say anything incriminating. And that isn’t even something that is certifiably crazy—it’s just what I do.”

 “Remember that one time you told me you were afraid of being smothered by a hoard of moths in your sleep?”

 Renly straitened then, lips pulled tight, amusement lurking below his narrowed eyes. “Moths are dangerous, Loras, and they are queer looking and I have every right to be terrified of them. One day they might just take over this world by blocking out the sun in their frantic and terrifying quest to swarm all light.”

 Loras couldn’t help but laugh, dropping his last few stones on the ground. Grasping his side, he pushed down on the bullet wound, his side aching even as he continued to laugh. He had no idea why Renly was so frightened of moths, but it was a hilarious spectacle to watch when one fluttered near him. He’d holler and jump away, batting his arms around in an attempt to scare it away, when in reality he was the one who was fleeing. The first time he’d seen it he thought Renly had been hurt, and pulled his gun out, ready to fire at whatever had harmed him.

 But even Loras, one of the best shots in all of America, couldn’t shoot a flapping moth.

 Finally calming, he coughed slightly, wincing as the pain pulsated through him for only a moment. It was enough to cause Renly to panic, however, his hands grasping Loras’ arm, pulling him toward a log. Sitting down, he pushed Renly away gently, his hands too tight around his wrist and elbow.

 “I’m fine,” he said, rubbing his wrist gently, Renly still pressed in close. When Renly didn’t back off, Loras pushed him a bit harder on his chest, getting him to lean back, distancing them as they drew too close together. “Renly, honestly, I’m fine.”

 “Are you sure?” he asked. Loras scooted a bit on the log, creating a gap between their once touching thighs, realizing there were people wandering around who would no doubt question their close proximity. He also didn’t like it when Renly was practically breathing down his neck.

 “I’m positive.” In truth he was getting rather annoyed, Renly’s hovering becoming more of an annoyance than an endearing quality like it had been only an hour ago. He had no idea what was making Renly so jittery, his usual relaxed behaviour seemingly gone, his back straight and his eyes wide with worry as he regarded Loras with a certain amount of trepidation—like Loras was going to suddenly start coughing up blood and die right in his arms. “I’m wondering if _you’re_ fine.”

 “Of course I am—why do you ask?”

 Loras knew if Renly could see himself right now he wouldn’t be asking him that question. He looked like a deer caught in the lights of a train.

 “Because you’re acting like a fool,” he said, rubbing his side gently, glaring at Renly as he made move to reach out and touch Loras again.

 “I’m just worried,” he admitted, brows furrowed and lip jutted out in a small pout. The pout, while it would normally make Loras soften a bit, this time only made him bristle further. It was a tactic used in order to replace thoughtful inquiries with gentle kisses and sweet caresses. He wasn’t going to distract Loras this time.

 “Worried about what?”

 “I… I don’t know. I mean, I know you’re fine but…” Renly sighed. Shoving his hat off he let it drop down on to the ground, fingers running through his shorter hair. “I feel responsible for that.” He jerked his head down toward the bullet wound.

 Raising both his brows, Loras stared at Renly, disbelief on his features. _How can he possibly think this was his fault?_ “Where did that stroke of logic come from?”

 “Come off it, Loras,” Renly said, glowering. “I was the one who was caught, Loras—I was the one who caused all this trouble for everyone. If I hadn’t… I mean, if I hadn’t done any of this we wouldn’t be in this mess. And I’m not just talking about getting caught by the bounty hunters, I mean everything, all of _this_.” He waved his hand between the two of them, obviously trying to indicate something to Loras. He was just left terribly confused.

 “I don’t follow,” he mumbled slowly.

 Renly sighed again and ran his hands over his face, picking a bit of sand out from his eye. Turning to stare at the lake, he locked his fingers gently together and rested his elbows on his knees. “What Stannis said got me thinking… If I hadn’t run off—if I had just stayed and asked for help—how things would have been different for all of us, you know? If I had just stayed I most likely wouldn’t have become a robber and a killer, I wouldn’t have had to sell my body just for food. I wouldn’t have become what I am today… I might have had a pretty normal life. And then you—”

 “What about me?” Loras asked sharply. He didn’t like where this conversation was going because he knew where it would head—he’d been having the same thoughts after all. But he didn’t voice them aloud, knowing that it was fruitless and also knowing that he was so goddamn selfish he couldn’t bear to think about what would have happened had Renly stayed in Emerald with Stannis.

 “You wouldn’t have become a killer and a robber, too,” Renly whispered, eyes downcast as he fiddled with his fingers, cracking his knuckles sharply. “I feel like I… like I made you something you weren’t supposed to be. Like you became some sort of degenerate all because of me.”

 Loras would have hit him had they both not been beaten already. Instead he rolled his eyes and shoved his boot hard into the ground, the stones beneath his feet shifting, making a harsh, grating sound along the lake. “You want to know where I’d be had we not met?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “I’d be dead, Renly—long since buried deep in the ground, and that’s if I was lucky. Chances are I’d probably have been left to be picked off by buzzards and rot under the sun until my bones were bleached and lost to the desert. I’d be a forgotten name soon enough; that Tyrell boy who ran away from home and never returned. That’s all I’d be.”

 “You wouldn’t have died…” Renly said, but he still wasn’t looking at Loras. _Probably because he knows he’s being a fool._

 “Fine, say I did live—I’d probably be taken advantage of almost every night, strung up on opium and alcohol and treated like shit because I was too naïve and most men would have taken advantage of that. I most certainly wouldn’t be prospering up in the mountains with clothes on my back, a strong reputation and self-confidence bordering on arrogance.”

“Bordering?”

 Loras snorted, glad to see a little smile playing on Renly’s lips. Reaching out he cupped Renly’s cheek, getting him to look at him. “You saved me, Renly. I know you think that you didn’t, but you did. And I know this is selfish to say, but I’m glad you left Emerald, because I’d be nothing without you. You supported me and showed me kindness and love, and I have nothing but gratitude and respect for you. Don’t go thinking you caused any of the bad things to happen that had happened; It’s just what happens to us. We play the card we’re dealt, and from where I’m standing, I think I got the Royal Flush.”

 Renly smiled then, his hand covering Loras’ own for the briefest of moments, his warm palm and long fingers curling around his hand, squeezing gently before they were separated, the two knowing not to show too much affection in public. “Thanks, Loras.”

 Loras winked. “Anytime. I just don’t want you thinking you caused this. I was free to make my own choices, and I chose to follow you. In fact, you tried to send me away on more than one occasion—I’m just a stubborn bastard.”

 “You seriously wouldn’t change anything?”

  “I mean, I could do without some of the bumps and scrapes we’ve encountered, and I could certainly do with a few more baths in between running around like yokels, but no… no I wouldn’t change a thing. What’s done is done, no use dwelling on the past. Would you change anything?” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the answer, knowing Renly had a few more regrets than Loras had, but he had to ask.

 Renly seemed to ponder the question for a moment, his gaze fixed on a curl that tickled Loras’ ear. Reaching out, he tugged it gently, a small smile appearing on his lips. “And risk losing you? No, I don’t think I could.”

 Loras let out a soft breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding, his smile matching Renly’s own as they basked in each other’s’ glow. They’d found each other—against all odds they had found one another. Loras liked to call it fate while Renly would have called it coincidence, but the point remained; they were here with each other, supporting one another and loving one another in a world where the odds were stacked against them in almost every possible way. They’d suffered more than they probably had any right to, but the moments of joy that they had eclipsed all the injuries both physically and mentally they’d sustained.

 Loras never thought he’d grow up to be an outlaw with a short life expectancy, where the law was always after them and he’d become famous by killing and stealing, and he certainly never thought he’d fall in love and commit himself to another man, the two sharing a bond no one else could take part in. But here he was—sitting in front of Renly, their knees gently knocking together, a bit battered and bruised but still moving on—still pressing forward. It wasn’t the type of life he _thought_ he’d have, but it was the one he needed and the one he embraced.

 “We have each other, Renly. That’s what matters, right? Our love and commitment, no what if’s and thoughts about the past. This—right here right now—is all that matters.”

 Renly nodded, and the anxiety that seemed to have cloaked him since Loras had woken was gone, lifted off of his broad shoulders. He looked as if he was going to move in for a kiss before he caught himself, brows furrowing in an instant. Suddenly the moment was lost, and Renly was looking at Loras with a certain amount of apprehension, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips, his hands rubbing up and down his thighs in quick succession as he stared at Loras. For a second Loras was worried, but the fear slipped away as soon as Renly began to speak, curiosity in his tone. “You didn’t happen to uh… yell in front of Melisandre and a bunch of other folks about how you’re a sodomite, did you?”

 Loras paused, brows furrowed as he tried to think back to when he might have said that. Most things were a blur since the shooting, his sense of time completely off. What happened last week felt like it could have happened yesterday, while things that had happened yesterday felt like they’d taken place years ago. Loras had been pretty out of it for three days. But he began to remember his confrontation with Melisandre outside her Church as soon as Renly had been taken. He remembered her maddening expression, the quirk of her brow and the tug of her lips. He remembered how she spoke, the tenor of her voice and the amusement in it. He remembered the wanted poster in his hand and the commanding presence of Brienne.

 And he remembered screaming about sodomy, too.

 “Well damn,” he mumbled.

 “Yeah, we need to leave soon,” Renly said, standing.

 “What do you mean?” Loras asked, letting Renly support him as he stood. “I thought you wanted to wait a few days to see how I recovered?”

 “Well not now that I know you just gave us away to the entire town!”

 “What do you mean?” he repeated.

 Sighing, Renly held loosely on to Loras’ elbow as they picked their way across the rocky bank. “You do remember how sodomy is a crime, right?”

 “Yeah?”

 “Yeah? That’s all you’ve got to say? Listen, Stannis is already doing us a huge favour by letting known criminals stay here without locking us up, but now that rumours are flying about our sex lives… well, let’s just say Stannis doesn’t have that much power to keep everyone quiet. He doesn’t give a shit what we do together, but other people do. Besides, I think we’ve caused him enough trouble, don’t you?”

 There was a certain amount of fondness in Renly’s tone as he spoke, one Loras wasn’t used to hearing whenever he spoke of Stannis. “Are you two— I mean, have you two spoken since the bounty hunters?”

 “A bit, but not much. We’re both not ones for talking. I just think we’ve managed to come to terms with each other. He doesn’t hate me, I don’t hate him, and we’ll leave it at that.”

 It was the best Loras would get on the matter. Loras couldn’t fathom every hating or even disliking his brothers, but then again, he hadn’t been left by them. He’d left them…

XX

 It felt good to be packing up once more. The familiar motions of placing saddles on horses and spurs on boots were carried out with ease, while little speaking was done, both Loras and Renly finding the entire affair one that could be done with no instruction from the other. They’d been doing this for three years together, while Renly had been doing it for far longer. Packing up and leaving was as natural as breathing for the two of them, hands always itching to grab that saddlebag and be off.

 Loras remembered the night he packed up to leave the ranch like it had happened only a day ago. He remembered how long it had taken, how many times he second guessed himself as he snatched whatever he could, hands shaking and bottom lip chewed to bits as the nerves set in. Now such actions were comfort to Loras, everything about it something he embraced like the changing of the weather.

 “You ready?” Renly asked as they lead their horses from the barn, Ricochet’s nose gently nudging Loras as he slowed down a bit. Despite the familiarity of it all, Loras felt like they were missing something, and he stopped just outside the barn, brows furrowed.

 “Where’s Brienne?” he asked suddenly, looking around for her. She was sort of hard to miss. 

 “Over there,” Renly replied, nodding his head across the way.

 In front of the general store Loras had decimated when the first arrived stood Brienne, as well as Stannis and Davos, all three of them regarding Loras and Renly with a critical eye—save for Brienne who seemed to be staring at Renly morosely. Quirking a brow, the two approached the trio, Loras a bit confused. “Is she not coming with us?”

 Renly shook his head. “Looks like she got herself a job while we were waiting for me to get over myself,” Renly said, winking before grinning brightly at all three as soon as they were near. “Well, we’re going.”

 “Did you pay the doctor?” Stannis asked.

 “Yep, and we tipped him and everything,” Renly said, puffing his chest out.

 “With money that was stolen.”

 Renly lost a bit of his puff, but he kept on his smirk as he shrugged. “The man was paid, that’s all that matters, really.”

 Stannis grunted. “Have a safe trip and… and don’t get into trouble again. You’re a smart man, Renly, so don’t do anything stupid like you seem want to do.”

 Loras wondered if everything Stannis said had some sort of backhanded compliment to it. But Renly didn’t seem fazed, his grin turning into a little smile. “You, too. And Brienne—take care of these two, yeah?”

 “Wait, what?” Loras said, finally. _Take care of… is she staying with them?_

“I’m staying here,” she said as if to read Loras’ mind.

 “Why?” Why would anyone want to stay here?

 “I got a job… in law. Sheriff Baratheon offered me a job and I thought why not?”

 Why not? Loras could think of numerous reasons as to why. She’d been taken in by Renly and Loras, two men who did the exact opposite of what she was going to be doing. She was going against everything they stood for! But then Loras remembered that she wasn’t one of them—that was the point. She was… she was better than that. Besides, he couldn’t wait to see her leave; getting so disgruntled wasn’t doing him any good.  Still, a part of him had gotten used to her being around, her presence soothing because he knew she had Renly’s back. Even if she spent a bit too much time looking at his behind.

 “I… That’s swell, Brienne. I’m sure you’ll make a mighty fine deputy one day,” he said, meaning it.

 Renly moved forward then, and he was quickly engulfed in a hug from Brienne, Renly patting her back and mumbling reassurances in her ear. She smiled then, although Loras could see the tears in her eyes. She’s grown accustomed to them, too, it seemed. But this was where she belonged—with her fellow law abiding citizens.

 Loras didn’t hug Brienne, but he shook her hand, the two regarding each other almost as friends. Loras respected her, and that was what mattered—not many could earn his respect. He also shook Stannis’ and Davos’ hands, although they were brief, Loras thanking them only for saving his life—although really, that was all thanks to Renly and the horse he’d stolen. Still, they helped, and they’d helped save Renly, too.

 Renly and Stannis had a brief moment, and for a second Loras thought they were going to hug, the two moving in before their hands slid out, hesitation in both their eyes as they simply shook hands. For a second the resemblance between the two could be seen—the same straight nose and strong jaws, the dark hair and deep blue eyes. But the familiarity left as soon as Renly smiled and Stannis gave him a tight nod, the warmth in Renly palpable while Stannis was still cold and distant.  Once again Loras thought of how different Renly would have been had he stayed with Stannis. Maybe he’d be just as boring.

 “What are you smiling about?” Renly whispered to Loras as they climbed on to their horses.

 Biting the side of his cheek, Loras held in the grunt of pain as his side stretched, and let out a low little moan as he finally sat down, his side relaxing like an accordion. “Nothing.”

 “Have a safe trip,” Brienne said, smiling brightly. The tears were still there, but she seemed happy and determined. She was ready for this.

 “Don’t do anything foolish,” Stannis mumbled. He turned then, Davos following suit, the two leaving while Brienne stayed. Loras wouldn’t have been surprised if she had been ordered to stay and see to it that they actually left.

 “Well, have a good life, Brienne,” Loras said, not knowing what else to say.

 “You too. And come visit sometime…  I mean, if you’re in the area.”

 “And Stannis doesn’t try and shoot us,” Renly said, only half joking.

 Loras didn’t know what to say after that—there wasn’t much too say. They were just moving on like they always did. Renly finished things up by continuing to compliment Brienne, telling her this was what she was meant to do and that he was proud of her. Loras would have gagged, but that would ruin the moment they were having. Besides, Renly might think he was dying or something.

 As soon as their goodbyes were done they had their horses turned around and walking down the path, heading toward the edge of town.

 “So… where to, Little Rose?” Renly asked, lighting up a cigarette.

 “I don’t know—I remember something about a trip to see the ocean?” he drawled out, grinning at Renly.

 “I guess we could visit California. It might be dangerous treading through unexplored territory on our way to civilization, though.”

 “Don’t worry, Renly. I’ll protect you.”

 “You going to be my knight in shining armour?”

 “Aren’t I always?”

 “Well, now that I know you’re here for me, I guess I can’t say no. Looks like California is where we want to be, my knight of flowers.”

 Loras just laughed at the new nickname as they rode off into the sunset.


	35. Goodbye for Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own them
> 
> Warnings: MalexMale sex
> 
> Authors Note: One more chapter, and I promise you it's one you're going to want to read. Just remember-- a love like theirs doesn't just go away.

  To an outlaw, the world was centred round the saddle and a bullet. Everything relied on those two things; where you went and how you got there, how long it took and when it will all ended. The saddle was your guide while the bullet told you your destination. Whether it be a bullet into the head of a bank teller who gave you the money you needed to run to the ends of the earth, or a bullet between your eyes telling you that you were going somewhere very specific and right away—no turning back whatsoever.

 It was a simple life; a straightforward one that suited most men. No attachments, no rules, and no guides. Just the open world, your saddle, your bullet, and a sense of wanting to know _more_ and going for it, no matter what. There was nothing much else to go by, really. There were no laws out in the middle of the woods, no expectation save for carrying your own weight and doing what needs doing, and there were no complications—things added on that just made life more difficult, whether it be politics or societal expectations, or just keeping your home in order.

 Being an outlaw made men who knew how to take care of themselves and survive a harsh world. It catered to those who could survive and those who didn’t need every luxury imaginable.

 But California was different.

 Los Angeles, San Francisco, and San Diego, all of them cities—true cities. None of the small towns down in the South with one paved road and promise of greatness—these cities had achieved it _already_. 

 Large buildings made of strong stone, wood and steel, with colourful paint and flashy advertisements. Paved roads with running water and electricity, with candlelight and gas lights being things reserved only for the poor. A constant hum surrounded the places on the West Coast; people conducting business, men in finely tailored suits and prospectors in clothes covered in dirt from a hard year up in the mountains; women in beautifully made gowns and broad brim hats; people from all over the world, including the Orient and South America.

 Luxury was everywhere, evenings spent at the theater or down at the extravagant gambling houses. Dressed to impress, time was taken to make sure everything was put together perfectly, not a spot on anyone, be it their clothes or their way of conducting themselves. They put on a show—a performance for their companions. Everyone had to make an impression, not with their skill with a gun or their threatening manner, rather with their material wealth and social status. People were connected to things on the West Coast. They had possessions they could not part with, relationships that kept them stuck; homes and carriages; clothes and trinkets; businesses and afternoon teas. No one could just leave, the wandering lifestyle foreign to most or simply quant to others.

 It was a shock for Renly and Loras, who swore by the saddle and bullet code. Nothing more was needed and nothing more was expected.

 And yet they stayed.

 Wandering through the mostly uncharted territories of the great Americas, they lived life as they already had, moving from one spot to another, nothing but open skies and the occasional rotting hotel for shelter. Silence seemed to pervaded most of the time, the two of them only having one another for company for weeks on end, their comfortable silences and bursts of chatter both welcomed and expected, each knowing one another so well that quietness seemed to grab hold more often than naught. They grew peaceful with each other as they traveled to California, and they became at peace with themselves as well. There were no more secrets and past affairs to keep them apart, their hearts free and their minds clear.

 They made love often and with vigour, no one to judge or persecute, the passion between them only growing with intensity the longer they knew each other. Renly looked more beautiful to Loras, the twinkle in his eye brighter than ever before. Each time Loras woke he thought Renly couldn’t look more stunning, but he was always proven wrong as the next morning he’d think the same, Renly’s radiance unmatched. And the looks he received in return told him Renly felt the same way.

 Renly called what they had true love, while Loras thought it was beyond words. 

 They grew and they wandered, and before they knew it, two years had passed and the coast was close. They could smell it in the air—salty and raw, an edge to it blanketed by the pine that swarmed them still. Loras grew excited while Renly seemed to slow down, hesitant to break the peace they’d found. But the ocean called to him as well, and they broke through the thicket of the uncivilized and rode into the world where steam engines, paved roads and electricity reigned supreme.

 It was a shock for both of them, their backwater ways sticking out like a sore thumb as they headed to Los Angeles—the city of Angels. It was loud and it was busy, everything too much to take in after having been separate from such large cities for so long. In fact, Loras couldn’t have rightly said he’d seen any place like Los Angeles. While he’d been to New Austin a few times, it paled in comparison to the great cities of California. For the briefest of moments Loras had wanted to turn back, but he raised his chin and continued forward, knowing he’d regret it if they left without experiencing everything around them.

 They ever so slowly became acclimatised to the area, one step at a time. They bought new clothes—most of them practical but a few that were strictly for appearances rather than comfort and riding; vests and nice jackets, soft shirts and a few pieces of jewellery. They stayed at nice hotels, first near the outskirts before moving further into the hearts of the city, the sights and sounds giving them life and a vibrancy. They bathed regularly and snuck into each other’s bed every night, their relationship secret despite the gossip that seemed to fly all over.

 They even began to gain friends in higher places, their good looks and Loras’ Southern charm a draw to those who had spent all their lives in high society, where the mere mention of gun slinging and highway robberies were things in storybooks and over-excited imaginations. They never revealed their past or where they came from, but those clever enough figured out that their stories featuring specific men were based more on fact than fiction, and that perhaps the fabled Stag and Rose were right in the room with them.

 They traveled all across, too, never stopping for too long in one place before moving on. They saw the ocean and even swam in it; they explored the deserts and the forests; they ate food they had never eaten before, and even visited a zoo and a fairground. But they always returned to the places they’d left, long enough for people to remember them and expect them back soon enough.

 They did this for two years, seven months, six weeks and seventeen days.

 But the pull toward home reached both their hearts eventually. The expensive drinks and eventual droll conversation began to wear at them. Loras wanted to get moving again while Renly wanted to return to the South, both ready to share their tales and visit those who knew them before they navigated their way through the world of the upper elite. They wanted to converse with the men in the saloons who knew nothing of the outside world, but knew everything there was to know about the edible plants in the surrounding area. While both Renly and Loras liked to believe they fit in, they didn’t feel it—not completely.

 And so they rode back. Ricochet was left behind at a small farm outside San Diego, his old bones and tired hooves making for a retirement that was long overdue. Loras loathed to let him go, but the horse had earned his vacation, and he was left lounging under the warm sun with his greying hairs and droopy lip, free to wander as he pleased and eat when he wanted and sleep to his heart’s content.

 Instead Loras was on a plucky little mare they’d purchased with some of the last of the money that had been stolen years ago. The rest of their cash had come from gambling and selling, and even working occasionally—on farms and ranches as they passed through on their way to California. Occasionally they stole, but nothing that couldn’t be replaced or easily made up for. Bank heists were done for and train robberies only dreams they shared when they lay together under the silk sheets of the hotels near the beach.

 It took them a long time to return south, and even longer to get back to the old town where Loras had first met the rest of the gang—Dutch Creek.

 By comparison the town was small, but to the South it was large. The lone paved road had turned into ten, while the train station was as busy if not busier than before. The houses were plentiful, brightly painted and well kept, pride in each picket fence. The bank—Lannister Co.—was still functioning, and Loras couldn’t help but laugh as Renly pulled a face while they passed. They entered the saloon after tethering their horses outside, and for a second Loras expected to see the entire gang sitting at the large round table, fresh faces and bright eyes filled with vigour and blinded by youth. But they weren’t there—Greyjoy or Pyp or Grenn.

 But there was one familiar face.

 “Well I’ll be damned,” Renly drawled out as they approached the man sitting alone in the corner, his hand wrapped around a stubby neck beer bottle. When he saw them approach he broke out into a crooked grin, eyes softening as he stood to greet them.

 “I thought you’d left forever,” Snow said, his soft voice having not aged at all with time. He still sounded youthful and yet tired, wise beyond his years.

 They both hugged him, rough pats on the back accompanying the action. Loras hadn’t expected to see Jon Snow, but then again, he hadn’t expected to see anyone familiar.

 “Wasn’t sure you’d recognize us,” Loras said as they all sat down, Renly ordering drinks for all of them, ignoring Snow’s half-full beer.

 Snow shrugged. “You haven’t changed much, Rose. Baratheon here only has a beard—poor excuse for a disguise if that was what you were going for.”

 Renly smirked and rubbed his cheek, his black beard a thing of pride for him, Loras having been roped into helping him groom it. “It’s not a disguise—why, should we be hiding?”

 Loras wasn’t sure how long bounties lasted, but he figured they’d been gone for almost eight years; surely they’d been forgotten, or perhaps presumed dead.  They were, it seemed.

 “No, you’re safe. No one around here has been looking for you two for some time. You’re still talked about—I know how worried you two were about being forgotten—but you’ve become legends more than anything.”

 Loras grinned, Renly returning it. He forgot how good it felt to be called Rose once more, coupled with the word ‘legend’. But he also couldn’t help but feel elated at the prospect of being forgotten. Perhaps they could reinvent themselves once more like they had up in California, nothing holding them back from being something more—something different.

 Their drinks arrived and tales were exchanged. While they’d been gone Snow formed his own gang, although they didn’t so much as rob as protect. They called themselves the Nights Watch, and would travel around at night between the towns, patrolling the areas the lawmen dare not venture. Tarly, the Slayer, had joined, as had Grenn and Pyp, all four of them having changed their fate for the better. Snow looked happy as he spoke of what they did, his eyes bright while a smile continually tugged at his usually stoic features.

 But the conversation turned sour soon enough, Greyjoy’s name having not once been uttered looming over them.

 “So… how’s Greyjoy? Or have you heard from him?” Renly asked, leaning forward on the table, the ghost of a smile slipping away as conversation turned toward a darker path.

 Snow frowned, sighing as he ran a hand through his dark hair. “He went after the Bolton gang soon after you left,” he admitted. Loras could feel Renly tense beside him, and reached under the table, grasping his knee gently for a moment. He knew how close the two of them had been, literally thick as thieves as young men trying to survive together. Even though Snow had not finished they knew whatever he had to say could not be good, the Bolton gang something to be feared even to this day.

 “And…?” Loras asked, probing forward.

 “He was taken. Went missing for a few years; no one heard from him or about him, save for fucked up rumours now and again. I thought he was dead, truth be told, but… but it was worse than that.”

 Renly swallowed the rest of his beer, brows furrowed as he no doubt processed the information. He nodded for Snow to continue, his hands steady around the bottle.

 “He showed up again, three or four years later—I can’t be sure. He went by a new name… well, he used to go by a new name. Reek, they called him. I’d heard it uttered a few times but I never thought it was Greyjoy; always thought it was another poor man, you know? But no… no it was Greyjoy. He’d lost most of the colour in his hair and he’d been—” Snow paused to take a drink, eyes downcast before locking with Renly’s, “he’d been tortured, Baratheon. For well over a year or more. I don’t know how long, really—I don’t think Greyjoy knew, either. He’d lost a few fingers, has skin peeled away and… and it was bad. He didn’t look the same and didn’t act the same…”

 “Where is he now?” Renly asked, his voice still steady. Loras felt a bit queasy, the reality of their absence making its ugly appearance. Of course not everything or everyone had made it out of the last few years well and good. He’d been fool enough to think everything would have been the same when they returned, as if eight years hadn’t passed and everything was the normal and regular.

 “He said he was going back home. I don’t know if he made it; he was into some stuff when he returned. Opium, mostly. He said it was to deal with the pain, and by all rights I don’t blame him for it.” Snow shrugged again, pain lingering in his eyes as he explained to Renly what had taken place, regret in his voice. Loras knew he felt guilt for having not stopped what had happened, and no matter how many times he was told he could have done nothing to prevent it, he’d always berate himself for it.

 Loras also knew that every injury Renly sustained was like one he received as well, the two linked in every way. If Renly had been made to suffer like Greyjoy had, Loras knew the grief and guilt would consume him.

 “What of Ygritte?” Loras asked.

 It was the wrong question. Jon immediately glanced down at the table, jaw tightening. “She’s dead,” was all he said.

 Loras didn’t know what to say. Ygritte had been one of Loras’ first friends after he’d run from home. She was strong and feisty and understanding, her kindness hidden behind intelligence and a shrewd understanding of the world.  She deserved better than an early grave.

 “How?”

 “Shot. Bandits raiding the caravan killed her, or so I was told. She died protecting her people… it’s what she wanted.”

 And suddenly Loras understood why Jon had formed the Nights Watch. To protect people like Ygritte; the wanderers and the outsiders, those beyond the reach of the lawmen and yet needed protecting to. He was just doing what Ygritte had done, only in his own way.

 The rest of their visit was spent nursing their drinks as they tried to talk about the good old days. Good old days that tasted more sour with every passing memory.

XX

 They stayed in the hotel Loras first stayed in when he arrived all those years ago, in the exact same room he had been placed in. The room too had changed—the bed was larger while the room looked smaller. The sheets were softer and the walls had been painted off-white, making everything look cleaner and more open than before. Not so stifling, although perhaps that was  because Loras had been in a different frame of mind back then; lost and confused, with no direction and no desire save to be near Renly and to see the world.

 Lying in bed, his chin resting on Renly’s shoulder as they both stared out the moonlight window, Loras could honestly say he’d done what he’d always wanted to do the last time he lay in this room.  And yet it all seemed lack-luster in comparison to everything else. He thought returning to the world he once inhabited would be a good thing, filled with tales of all his companions prospering just like he had. He’d been misled enough to think that everyone had made it out alright, that their choices wouldn’t come back to haunt them. Renly said Loras would always retain some of his delusions of grandeur and chivalry, and although Loras had scoffed at him, he knew he was right. The world didn’t always work for the best, and although God was inherently good, humanity was not. Things wouldn’t always work out like they did in the novels his brother wrote, even if Loras had tried to deceive himself of this for so long.

  Renly’s skin warm against his cheek and chest, the rise and fall of his body as comforting to Loras as the pull of the ocean was to the moon, and he found he was finally tired. Not physically, but mentally. The fire that seemed to consume him when he was younger wasn’t there anymore; it had been replaced with something more manageable, something better and yet not as fitting to his old lifestyle. He felt as if he’d lost the rage inside; the push to kill and maim and hurt like he’d had when he’d first begun his journey. He felt like he’d been tamed.

 There were rumours that the Wild West wasn’t so wild anymore, whisperings amongst the people as he and Renly ventured back home. America’s boarders were closing in, the territories that used to be grey zones on the map filling, slowly by surely. Electricity was coming down and paved roads were becoming more and more frequent, the novelty gone. Those who continued the outlaw lifestyle were dying off or being caught, or simply trading in their old habits for new ones in an attempt to fit into the new world that was being offered to them.

 Loras felt like he wanted that for himself. The law was no longer breathing down his neck, old feuds were just that, old and dead, and that whirlwind of passion needed to complete a job and kill a man and defend oneself was gone inside Loras. Instead of that forest fire it had turned into a warm flicker that sat in his heart, a little piece of it belonging to Renly.

 He was exhausted, truthfully.

 And he was ready…

 He was ready to fulfill one last promise.

 He was ready to go _home_.

 “I think I’ve lost the taste for it,” Loras whispered in the dark, lips pressed against Renly’s shoulder.

 Renly just grunted in his sleep.

XX

 The feeling didn’t go away in the morning, and the tug to return to his old family ranch pulled even harder as he stared out across the desert that skirted the outside of the sprawling Dutch Creek. Sitting under a tree, Renly rested between his legs, his back pressed against his chest as they soaked in their alone time, no one there to see the two lovers as they lounged.

 “I’ve lost the taste,” he repeated, and this time Renly inquired.

 “What do you mean?”

 “I’ve lost the taste for all this… for traveling and wandering… I’ve lost it, Renly.”

 Renly turned in Loras’ arms, glancing over his shoulder before he crawled off of Loras and sat down beside him. “What do you mean?” he repeated.

 Sighing, Loras reached out and scratched under Renly’s jaw quickly, the soft bristles of his beard now familiar to him. “I made a promise to a lady when I left, and I think it’s time I stay true to it. I think it’s time I go home.”

 Renly’s brows furrowed, his deep blue eyes widening a bit as he regarded Loras carefully. “You mean… go home? To your old family ranch?”

 Loras nodded, sitting up further against the tree. Renly had taken his hand, fingers loosely holding on in the air between the two. “Yeah, back to the ranch. I… I need to go see my family. I need to see if they’re alright and I just… I need to stop, Renly.”

 He never thought he’d say that—never thought he’d say that he needed to _stop_ and mean it. He always had to be on the move, he always had to see what was out there and experience everything that there was to. But he had done it; he’d done what he’d always wanted to do. There was nothing else to complete but go back and fulfill his promise to Margaery, one he could remember as if it was made just yesterday.

 “It’s time, Renly. I have to go back.”

 “What about me?” he asked, voice soft. But there wasn’t any fright in his voice—no terror like there had been years ago when he’d threatened to leave in a fit of teenage anger. Renly had moved on from his abandonment issues long ago back in a town called Emerald. But that still didn’t mean it was easy to say goodbye.

 “Come with me?” he said, squeezing down on Renly’s hand, hoping he’d say yes.

 But the way Renly was acting told Loras his answer. Renly’s hand slipped from his grip, his smile tight as he went to look down at Dutch Creek. He was silent for a time as he just stared out across the land, his sharp profile the same as it ever was, Renly having not aged at all. He was just as beautiful as the day Loras met him—perhaps even more so.

 “I don’t think I’m ready to stop moving just yet,” Renly finally said, turning back to Loras. There was regret in his eyes, but Loras didn’t fault him for his answer. If he wasn’t ready, he wasn’t ready, as much as it hurt Loras to know that they had to go on separate paths now. He was actually a bit surprised they’d lasted together so long, the two never straying very far from one another. They had always walked the same path, been ready for the same things at the same time. But now there was a tug that pulled Renly in a different direction, one Loras did not feel and could not follow.

 It was time.

 Nodding, he moved in for a kiss, one Renly readily accepted. “I love you,” he mumbled when they broke apart. Renly smiled against his lips, fingers tangling in his curls.

 “I love you, too...” Pulling away, they both let out soft sighs, closely accompanied by laughter as they realized how love-sick everything had become. They were past this—grown men who had seen and experienced it all. Moving on was a part of it all.

 Besides, Loras knew—he just _knew_ —this wasn’t the end. This couldn’t be the end; a love like theirs just didn’t die. It continued forward. He knew there was more to their bond than just this.

 “So… you’re going to need some help crossing that desert,” Renly drawled out, sending Loras a sly look.

 Quirking a brow, Loras raised his chin, tilting his head to the side. “Oh really?”

 Renly hummed. “Yeah, you are. See, that desert stretches on for miles before you reach this town called Last Chance. If you’re not careful, that desert is going to swallow you whole—but if you have a guide with you, someone like me who knows that desert… well, let’s just say you could find yourself safely back in the arms of your beloved family with not a scratch on you.”

 “And what do you want in return for your hospitality?” Loras asked, slowly breaking out into a grin.

 “Well…” Renly began, grinning as well. “I have this horse, you see, and sometimes I lose him...”

XX

 Renly took Loras through the desert just as he’d promised.

 Despite everything else changing around them, the old desert had stayed much the same, the ground parched and barren but with hidden life all around. They lay under the stars together and recounted old stories, fond memories and life-changing events. They shot the flowers off of the cacti for fun, Renly still as impressed with Loras’ skill as he was the day he first saw it. The days were hot and the nights were cool, but they were both used to it already, the parched land still their home.

 When they reached Last Chance the town was much the same when they’d left it—still old and a bit rotting, the houses leaning to one side while the shops and saloon leaned another way. But the thing that had changed in Loras’ eyes was the feel of the place. It wasn’t a thieves town like he thought it had been when he’d first arrived, fresh eyes and filled to the brim with naivety and reckless excitement. It was just a town, nothing more or less, the dangers in the shadows nothing but an overactive imagination.

 “It feels strange to be back here,” Loras mused as they tied their horses up outside the saloon that also acted as a hotel. They’d be getting a room together, spending one last night in each other’s arms before moving on—if they could really just move on from one another.

 “It’s where it all began,” said Renly, their hands briefly touching, glove against glove, before they parted as they entered the saloon.

 The early evening was spent sipping their beers and soaking everything in, their sides gently pressed together as they sat in the corner, no one paying them much mind as they just observed. But as the wild conversations died down and the piano player went to sleep, Loras and Renly wandered up to their bedroom—a room with a single bed. They were feeling daring when they requested their room, and no one asked any questions when they wished for a large bed rather than two separate ones.

 The room was small and dark, but the moonlight shed enough light in the small window for them to see each other. Loras began to shake a bit as he took off his gear, the reality that this could be their last night together seeping in. But Renly’s strong arms were wrapping around him in time, his broad palms sliding across his arms and over his own hands, helping him with the ammo belt that hung around his hips. Loras found his strength once more, pushing aside all thoughts of finality, and turned around in Renly’s arms, their lips pressing together in an instant.

 Renly still tasted of tobacco and peppermint, and his lips were still as soft and as pliant as ever. His hair, while shorter, still tangled in his fingers, heavy and rich and often cool to a touch as it weaved across his digits. The only difference in their kiss was the scratch of his beard against his skin, but it wasn’t unpleasant in the slightest.

 “Remember when you told me you were going to grow a beard?” Loras whispered in the dark, Renly’s hands sliding down his back, wrapping back around to the front to work on his belt buckle.

 “You mean remember the gasp of horror you let out?” Renly teased, ducking down to kiss across his jaw, nuzzling him gently. Loras smiled, head tilting to the side, the clink of his belt buckle opening a comforting sound.

 “I’ve grown accustomed to it,” he hummed, working Renly’s belt open as well, fingers sliding over the antlers with easy familiarity.

 They undressed each other without hurry, working deftly in the dark, smiles exchanged that could be seen in the light of the moon. As soon as they were bare their hands and lips were roaming, the two still standing as they basked in each other’s glow. Loras had memorized every inch of Renly’s skin long ago with his eyes, his hands, his lips and his tongue. The pads of his fingertips slid against the ridge on his arm, the scar tissue from a bullet graze still present. He kissed it, tongue flicking out to slide against it while Renly cupped the back of his head, a shiver running through his body. Next he kissed across his chest and down, nuzzling his tight stomach, his lips once again finding a large scar that ran from navel to hip—a knife fight up in the mountains a few years ago, one that had almost gutted Renly and disfigured Loras had they not pulled back by an inch. Loras still had a nick that ran from his eyebrow to the top of his cheek from the messy incident, but Renly didn’t seem to mind the scar, and so Loras didn’t mind, either.

_‘You still look just as young and charming as ever—just with a bit of an edge’_ , he’d said when Loras saw himself in the mirror. Renly was always there to make Loras feel better.

 He kissed down the scar as well, only stopping to look up at Renly as he knelt before him. Renly was glowing in the pale light, his face framed by shadows as he looked down at him, but the rest of his body lay bare by the moonlight. Renly tilted his head then, face becoming awash in the light, the devilish smirk on his lips once more while his eyes twinkled like a saint.

 “You’re beautiful,” he said, kissing his stomach, Renly’s fingers sliding through his curls. Renly didn’t have a chance to reply before Loras’ lips were over his cock, head bobbing up and down as he worked him slowly and carefully. Instead Renly let out a soft moan, one that curled around Loras, touching his own desires, fanning them further as he continued to pleasure Renly in ways he had taught him when he was younger.

 Sliding his hands up and down his thighs and backside, Loras enjoyed the feel of his bare skin under his hands, warm and soft to a touch, but with whipcord tight muscles underneath. It didn’t take long before Renly was tugging him up, babbling about how he was close and didn’t want the night to end. Loras pulled back then, lips pink and swollen, grinning up at Renly.

 “You think _I’m_ beautiful?” Renly panted out, reaching down to brush the pad of his thumb against Loras’ lip. “You should see yourself.”

 He kissed Renly’s hand and rose, only having a chance to brush his curls out of his face before he was being picked up and tossed gently on to the bed, a loud laugh escaping despite his better judgement. Renly didn’t seem to mind the noise however, and clambered on top of Loras immediately, their bodies seeking one another instinctually, arms wrapping around each other while legs tangled together, their groins touching as they ground together.

 Renly’s mouth was all over Loras’ body as they lay on the bed, his tongue and teeth grazing his neck and his ear, his chest and his nipples, his stomach and his thighs. Keeping his eyes open, Loras watched the journey, not wanting to miss a thing as his member was taken in, Renly returning the favour. Spreading his legs he moaned, running his hand through Renly’s shaggy black locks. Thrusting upward gently, he worked himself in between Renly’s full lips, pulling him up and off once he knew he was getting too close. A panting mess, Loras stretched out before Renly as he continued to sit at the foot of the bed, the two watching each other with desire and love and fondness.

 “Come back up here,” Loras said, nudging Renly with his foot. Renly obeyed, as he always did when Loras asked him of something, and once again their forms were wrapped tight together, kissing and caressing each other.

 They ended up lying on their sides as they took each other in, slowing down as they just kissed on the bed and whispered messages of love against their skin, as if to imprint them there for eternity. The night continued onward as they enjoyed each other, not moving forward with their love making, simply gently stoking the flames of desire. But it eventually became too much, and Renly was inside Loras, stretching him and filling him, Loras’ legs locked around his hips and arms wrapped around his shoulders as they pushed and pulled.

 They rode their pleasure for as long as they could, Renly’s heavy, hot body fitting perfectly between Loras’ spread legs, his cock stretching Loras open, Loras giving Renly his everything in return as he ground and squeezed down _. I love you_ , he kept repeating in his head. _I love you and I cherish you and you are my everything._

Despite their best efforts their bodies needed release soon, and Loras finally came as their eyes locked, bright hazel with brilliant blue. He managed to pant out an ‘I love you’ as he came crashing down from the high point he’d been floating along for so long, body shaking underneath Renly’s own. Renly ducked down and flattened himself against Loras, Loras hugging him as close as possible as they came together. Stroking his hair he just held on, his cock sliding against Renly’s stomach while Renly pushed deep into Loras, the two completely and utterly connected.

 Once they were spent Renly lay in Loras’ arms for the rest of the night, neither wishing to move or separate—not even for a moment. Right now, under the light of the moon and the twinkle of the stars, they were eighteen and twenty-two once more, adventure in their sights and the whole world open to them, so long as they jumped together.

XX

 “It’s going to be a hot day today,” Renly remarked.

 It was true. The sun had just risen and already Loras was feeling the heat against his neck, tickling his skin. “Luckily there are a lot of shady patches on the road to the ranch—shouldn’t be too bad,” he replied.

 Standing on the outskirts of Last Chance the two stared out down the road, horses’ reins in their hands as they postponed their departure from one another. Renly was going down to Louisiana to see if he could find Greyjoy, or so he said. Loras suspected Renly just didn’t want to stop moving—not yet—and would look for an excuse to go somewhere.

 He could understand that all too well.

 “So… I suppose this is goodbye?” Loras heard the hint of a question in Renly’s voice, and turned to regard him. Renly was smiling, although it was strained, the pull tight at the corner of his lips while the smile never reached his eyes.

 He looked scared.

 “You could come with me,” he suggested again, reaching out to scratch his chin gently. “There is always need for help at the ranch.”

 “I’m not much of a ranch hand,” Renly said, grabbing Loras’ hand, kissing the palm. “I think I need to keep going… just for a bit.”

 Loras nodded, the fear in Renly’s eyes slipping away. _Please come with me?_ “You know the offer is still good—no matter how long you wait on it. You can come any time to Highgarden. I promise you I’ll be waiting.”

 Renly smiled and damned their public appearance for a chance at a kiss. Brushing his hat off he ducked under the rim of Loras’ hat, kissing him passionately in broad daylight.

 No one was paying them any mind.

 “I’m going to miss you, Little Rose,” Renly whispered, their lips still brushing.

 Loras smiled, a genuine one—one that surprised even him. But when he spoke he knew why it was so easy to smile. “How can you miss something that’s never really gone? I’m still here—I’ll always be here, Renly. Right here.” He poked Renly’s chest, kissing him again as his hand slipped to lay flat against his shirt, feeling the beat of his heart under the palm of his hand. _I’ll always be here_.

 Renly nodded as they parted, sighing. “Besides, I’ve still got my little toy knight. Always have my knight of flowers with me,” he joked, patting his saddlebag where the wooden toy lay.

 “Exactly…”

 They were silent for a time, both soaking in each other under the sun. Renly with his shaggy black hair and bright blue eyes that always held a hint of mischief. His full lips were pulled up into a fond smile, and there were the beginnings of crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes, adding to the kindness of his strong features.

 “I love you,” Renly mumbled after a time, reaching out to tug a curl. “Always will, Loras.”

 “And I love you, Renly,” he said, the familiar gentle tug soothing.

 “Right, we best go,” Renly said, hoping on to his horse quickly. They had to leave now, else nothing would be done. They’d be stuck, and although Loras would gladly be stuck with Renly, he knew it wasn’t a viable option. They had to keep moving, after all. Following suite he climbed up on to his bay mare, hands tight around the reins, nudging her gently toward the road home.

 If there was still a home to go to, that was.

 He’d been gone for so long that maybe… maybe it wasn’t there anymore. Or maybe they wouldn’t accept him back. He had run away after all, and gone on to live a lifestyle not accepted by most. But they were his family—family always took you back… right?

 Just as if he felt himself falter Renly was saying something to him, snapping him from his frantic thoughts.

 “You go say hello to your sister, Loras. Tell her all the adventures you had like you promised.” Loras couldn’t help but smile as Renly spoke. _He always knows what I’m thinking…_  

 “I’ll see you soon,” Loras said, tipping his hat to Renly. “I’ll see you soon.”

 Renly nodded, tipped his hat, and kicked his horse off down another trail, leading far away from Loras. Renly didn’t look back.

 And so Loras didn’t either as he finally headed _home_.

XX

 It was late day when he road down the familiar trail, the fence posts up ahead advertising the Tyrell name, while wild rosebushes tangled themselves along the gates, everything cast in a golden light from the setting sun. Reining his horse in he stared across the way, taking in a deep breath that smelled of grass and roses and cow manure.

  _Yep, this is the place… Highgarden._

 Last time he’d been through these gates had been with Daisy, the two running through them as they made a break for freedom. Loras remembered how desperate he’d been—how scared and excited and nervous he was. It seemed like it had all taken place centuries ago.

 Everything looked smaller to him as he approached the gate, pushing it open to lead his horse through. Shutting it behind him, he walked down the path toward the homestead, the house hidden from sight behind a low hill. He’d see it after just a few more paces, however, and then he’d see how things had changed.

_If things have changed at all._

 He thought things ought to have changed—it had been eleven years, after all. Eleven years gone from the place he’d grown up. He’d changed so much that he figured everywhere else had to have, too. But as he crested the hill he realized that the world didn’t work that way. Some people changed while others continued on in the same pace they’d been traveling before, a pace that worked for them and was comfortable for them. Not everyone could be an adventurer with scars on his skin and tales so fantastical they seemed almost far-fetched.

 Gazing down at the ranch, Loras realized that he’d changed more than he thought.

 The house was still standing strong and proud, a fresh coat of the same white paint all across the wooden boards while light green had been applied to the window sills and intricate carvings all along the deck. The barn was standing tall as well, but it hadn’t been painted in a few years, the sides peeling a bit under the hot Texas sun. Down the way rested the village, a few new houses having been built, along with a shop that sold an assortment of goods for those traveling through or working the ranch. There were a few electrical poles that Loras could see, one right behind the house before they trailed off across the tops of the hills and onward, and Loras noticed that the house was powered by electricity now, all the lights that were on from light bulbs and not lanterns like they used to be.

 Seemed some things had changed.

 Steeling his nerves, Loras took a deep breath and continued on his way, footsteps loud on the dirt path while his heartbeat seemed even louder. Once again the notion that he wouldn’t be accepted back crept along his spine, but he pushed those fears away. _I’m family—they never turn away family._ As soon as he approached the house he expected someone to see him, but no one was paying the man and his horse any mind, everyone down in the village oblivious to the return of Loras.

 Sighing, he tied his mare up and walked up the old steps of the deck, remembering the creak and the give they had as he stepped up to the door. It had changed, too. Loras remembered being able to slam the door closed and watch as it wobbled on its old hinges. Now it looked like it’d take an elephant to knock it down.

 Taking a few deep breaths, he reminded himself that this was family once more, before wrapping his knuckles on the sturdy door in three quick successions.

 He waited then.

 And waited.

  _Guess everyone is out at the fiel—_

The sound of footsteps and a familiar voice broke Loras from the thought, excitement spiking through him for the first time as he stood on his old property, far away from Renly and the open road.

 “I told you already, we don’t sell any of that you have to go down to the—“ The door swung open and Margaery lost her voice. Eyes wide she stared at Loras, her lips parted, her curly hair coming out of a messy bun while her clothes looked rumpled, like she’d been on her feet all day, out in the fields with the cattle. She probably had. And there was disbelief in her eyes as she regarded him, her hand stiff around the door handle, seemingly frozen on the spot. Finally she spoke. “You’re not here for potatoes, are you?”

 Loras shook his head, only able to manage a smile before she grabbing him and pulling him in for a tight hug, her skinny arms wrapping around him and holding on with power that Loras thought she’d never let go.

 “You came back,” she whispered, face pressed against his neck.

 Wrapping his arms tight around her, he held her up as she collapsed in his arms, stroking her hair automatically like he used to when they were kids. “I promised I’d come back, didn’t I?”


	36. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: None
> 
> Disclaimer: Don't own 'em!
> 
> Authors Note: It's the end! The last chapter! I hope you guys all enjoyed it, and I want to thank those of you who have read it in its entirety-- it really means a lot. I took a gamble writing a lord and a knight in a dusty, grimy, dangerous world like the southern US in the late 19th century, but your feedback has told me it was a gamble worth taking. Thanks so much and enjoy the last chapter!

Renly had said Loras would always be a bit naïve.

 Well, he said Loras would always be an addle-headed outlaw who thought happy endings were possible for everyone— but still. Loras would always respond with indignation and a staunch refusal to admit to it, but he knew deep down it was true. He was naïve to the point of delusion at times, believing what he’d convinced himself of long ago and sticking to them for as long as possible. Sometimes he was right—sometimes his views and opinions turned out to be true, such as his belief that Renly was inherently good and kind and that they could make a life for themselves. Other times he was wrong; so wrong that he wished he’d never discovered the reality for the fantasy was better. But all fantasies had to stop eventually, and it seemed like Loras’ was coming to a close as soon as he returned home. If he could even call it home.

 Highgarden had changed.

 Not like how he’d wanted it to change, with everyone prospering and living well, their minds clear of grief and loss, and their bodies still youthful and young like how he remembered them being when he left so long ago. Instead he was given the reality. His foolish naïve notions that seemed to pervade his thoughts were pushed aside, and he was forced to see what had happened while he was gone, living a life that he thought had destroyed his innocence and misconceptions.

 The first thing Loras noticed having changed was Margaery. She was taller and a little fuller, a maturity to her once youthful appearance. She had lost the roundness in her cheeks and the softness to her eyes, and instead there was a strength to her entirely that Loras had expected would happen, but couldn’t quite imagine until it was before him in the flesh. She was in charge now—completely and utterly. The ranch was all hers except by name, Willas still owning it but having done little to keep it to himself. He’d given Margaery the control she desired once he’d inherited the ranch, deciding to continue writing and pursuing his creative endeavours, both his mind and body not fit for the ranching world.  

 But the question of inheritance brought upon the second change—the passing of their father.

 It had happened four years ago when Loras was still in California. Mace had come down with a bad cough, one that continued to wear him down until he was bed-ridden. Loras had seen it happen to others on his travels, men who were once virile were taken to their bed, their lives as miners or farmers, loggers or even doctors, done due to a cold that just wouldn’t leave. Margaery had said it was Tuberculosis, a prognoses that left little hope for survival. They’d made peace with it a few weeks before he finally died, and had even picked a spot to bury him with their father’s agreement, the entire family ready to see him go to Heaven.

 He’d died ashamed of Loras, however.

 “You know mama is just a bit stressed and didn’t mean it,” Margaery said as they stood out beside the horse pen, both leaning on the fence as the sun rose high in the sky, casting the land in rays of bright light and intense heat.  

 Loras had barely managed to catch a few snippets of sleep in his bed the night before, the day’s events keeping him wide awake and alert. He’d arrived in time for dinner, awkward silences and occasional conversation accompanying the meal of beef and green beans. Willas and Margaery clearly did not know what to say with the sudden return of their scarred and brutal brother, while his mother outright refused to look at him until she calmly told him their father was dead and he was ashamed of his son.

 After that everything tasted of ash, and Loras retreated to his old room that had been converted into the guest room. At least his room felt the same... The walls were still covered in cream wallpaper while the floors were a worn wood once coated in a rich lacquer, years of walking over it in boots having scuffed it completely up. The window he’d climbed out of still jammed if you opened it too far, and the air that wafted in still smelled the same—cow manure, wheat, warm air and dirt from the vegetable garden down below.  

 But the familiarity did not soothe Loras as he lay on the bed, replaying all the news he’d received. His father’s passing, his grandmother’s passing a little over two years after he’d left (he’d been assured it was just old age and not some crippling disease), and his mother’s animosity toward him. Everything had changed all around him, making him feel foreign in his own home. Being without Renly made it even worse, the loneliness he’d felt curled up in his bed all alone for the first time in years hitting him harder than he thought it would.

 He’d left a scared eighteen year old boy and returned an older, perhaps not wiser but surely stronger, man. But he felt like he was eighteen all over again, longing for a bit of familiarity in a place that had gone up and changed while he was gone.

 Margaery offered that to him, though. As soon as he’d risen from bed she was there, asking him to help with the morning chores. He’d slipped right into the role easily enough, remembering the order of operations it took to ready the animals and prepare the ranch for another busy day. It felt good to pick up buckets and shove cows out of the way to get to the food trough. His mind cleared as he worked away, and only when Margaery called him over for some lemonade did he slow.

 “We both know she did,” Loras said, regarding Margaery. It was still strange to see her so much older and poised. “How could she not? I’m pretty sure you saw the Wanted posters…”

 “And heard of your deeds,” she said, fingers locked together in front of her. “I believed some, but I know a lot of them were lies.”

 “Like what?”

 “Someone once said you’d wrestled a buffalo.”

 Loras snorted. “Sounds like something Garlan would make up.”

 Garlan had been one of the good pieces of news he’d received. He ended up marrying the pretty girl down the way with the golden hair that she’d tie back in a ribbon. They’d moved out of Texas and found themselves a nice place near the coast in Louisiana. He came to visit now and again, but it had been a year since he’d found the time to go up for a few days. Apparently there was talk of a kid coming into the mix, something that pleased their mother terribly.

 “He was pretty amused with that one, to be sure. Although some of them took a bit of thinking to figure out if they were real or not. Like the bit about you robbing a train down in Mexico?”

 “Yeah… that one was true,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

 Margaery just nodded at the revelation. “I thought so. Willas didn’t think you were smart enough to get away with it, but I knew you’d find a way.”

 She didn’t sound upset with Loras as he shared his exploits with her, revealing the truths behind what she’d thought were rumours. In fact, she didn’t seem all that surprised, either—like she’d expected Loras capable of these types of actions. He wondered if she was disappointed in him, but was too afraid to ask, fearing her answer. He could deal with his mother’s ire, but Margaery was different…

 “I didn’t rob any other trains after that,” he explained, trying to make it better.

 “Nah, you sort of disappeared after that.” Pushing away from the fence she turned around and leaned her back against the railing, a hint of a smile on her lips. “Where did you go?”

 “Up North,” he said, smiling at the memories of seeing the mountains for the first time and smelling the scent of pine all over, the stickiness of sap under his fingertips and the coolness of the rushing water. He missed the North. “I went to see the mountains and take in the fabled clear air. It was mighty pretty up there.”

 “Is that where you got the scar?” She reached out and brushed a curl away, her fingers gently tracing the scar that cut the edge of his eyebrow and ran down to his cheek.

 Loras let her touch it, ignoring the urge to bat her hand away, her fingertips tickling his skin. “I got it in a mountainous area, but not really. It happened closer to California on our way to the coast.”

 “How?” She dropped her hand, tugging a curl gently as she did so. The action reminded Loras of Renly, and for a second it was hard to breathe, the desire to have Renly there with him seizing hold all too swiftly. But the pain faded as quickly as it had come once he saw Margaery smiling at him, no judgement in her gaze, only curiosity and a hint of mischief.

 “Knife fight. My partner and I angered a few folks up there for some reason—I think we were all a bit too drunk. One of the guys got a lucky swipe at me and cut me up pretty good.” Loras ended up almost killing one of the men, but he thought it best to leave that part out. It’d do no good telling Margaery about how it felt to stab a man in the gut, his sticky hot blood seep out across your hands as he stared into your eyes with shock and horror, sour breath close enough to tickle your lips.

 “You’re lucky it didn’t do more damage; we’ve got a reputation as a family for being attractive and we couldn’t have you ruining that for us,” Margaery teased.

 Loras rolled his eyes and sipped his lemonade. “Right, then I guess you can’t be a true Tyrell.”

Margaery let out a bark of laughter, shoving Loras gently as she did so. Loras couldn’t help but join in, her laugh good to hear. It fought back the sickness he’d been feeling in his gut, and the smile he wore was genuine as they joked like they were young kids again—as if the last eleven years hadn’t happened at all.

 Eventually Loras got back to work, Margaery not asking any more questions despite her constant urge to snoop and know exactly what was going on at all times—a trait from their grandmother. Loras was grateful for it, not sure he was willing to talk about his past in full, mostly because he didn’t trust his emotions. Every memory he’d created involved Renly, and every thought of him made Loras freeze up for just a second, breath hitching and body stiffening, a pressure in his chest that threatened to snap his heart in two. He knew being separated from him would get easier in time, although it did little to soothe Loras’ anxiety.

 But he had to come home, no matter the changes. He’d made a promise and he kept it.

 When his job was done and the sun was too high in the sky to work under, he wandered back to the barn, the trail leading to it the same wide pathway he’d wandered down thousands of times before. Only this time Daisy wasn’t trailing behind him, her nose gently butting the small of his back, searching for treats as a reward after a good mornings work. Instead it was just him, some extra rope, and his small shadow together under the looming barn doors he’d run out of in the dead of night long ago.

XX

 Wandering up the hill Loras listened to the swish of the long grass against their legs and the chirp of the crickets, enjoying the peace of the place. His mother was walking beside him, eyes glued to the top of the hill where the stone white cross lay in plain sight, the setting sun casting it in gold and pink, lighting it up like a beacon. Loras had asked to visit the grave a few days after he’d come home, but it would be another week until his mother finally agreed to take him. She visited every day, apparently, but Loras was only privy to join her now.

 He thought it would sting more, such a revelation, but he’d come to accept it. She spoke little to him most days and seemed determined to forget he was there, his very presence a reminder of where she thought they’d gone wrong. They hadn’t raised their children to be outlaws who killed, but that was what Loras had become. A failure in her eyes, no doubt. For a family that prided themselves on their public appearance, Loras had certainly stained the name. Like a can full of tar dropped on to a perfectly white tablecloth.

 Loras supposed he should feel terrible for what he did, but he’d made peace with it long ago. He knew his parents would be frustrated and disappointed with him, and while he wanted nothing more than to please his parents, it wasn’t an option once he left the ranch. And he wasn’t about to regret what he did. What he did regret, however, was not making it back in time to say goodbye to his Pa and ask him for his forgiveness—make amends with him before he passed.

 But his mother was still here to do that with, and so he’d try his hardest to prove to her he was still the same Loras she raised—maybe a bit more scarred and with tales to tell that would shock most people, but still Loras. Still passionate and a little bit wild, but also calm and courteous, and still knew which fork to use first during dinner.

 Once they reached the top of the hill Loras took in the sight before him. The cross was made of a hard white stone—perhaps marble, he couldn’t be sure—and had his father’s birthdate and passing date written across it, along with his name and the Highgarden ranch. That was all—simple and clean. It actually surprised Loras for a moment; he remembered his father always gloating about his achievements, wanting the world to know just what he’d accomplished and what else he was going to do. But there was nothing ostentatious about the grave, rather it was direct about who he was with nothing else added.

 Loras liked it.

 Placing a few roses down on the grave, he brushed a bug gently off of one of the petals, rising so that his mother could place a single prairie flower down beside. He suspected she left them regularly, a few dried ones that hadn’t been blown away in the gentle wind resting close by. He wasn’t sure if his mother expected to say anything aloud, but he did anyways, his hand slipping into his pants’ pocket to grasp the silver cross he’d always had.

 “Hey, Pa… I’m sorry it took me a while to come visit. I was off in California seeing the big cities you always told me about when I was little… I’m positive you’d have liked it there,” he began, pulling the cross out to let it sit in the palm of his hand. The metal blazed under the light of the setting sun, giving Loras strength as it shimmered and shone. “Look, Pa, I know there isn’t any easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it—I’m sorry that I ran off and I’m sorry that I ruined your views on me, and I’m really sorry that I didn’t turn out how you expected. But I’m not sorry for what I did… I mean… I’m not sorry I saw the world and met some amazing people, and lived a life I wanted…”

 He didn’t dare look at his mother as he spoke, not wanting to see the look on her face, knowing it couldn’t be good. But she wasn’t moving, either. She was just standing beside Loras, obviously listening to him as he spoke to a man who might not even be listening _. If he doesn’t listen he doesn’t listen, but at least I’ve made my peace._

 “I do wish I could have said goodbye—a proper goodbye, that is. I wish I could have told you some of the stories of my travels and maybe have changed your views about what I did…” _And I wish I could have brought Renly back to meet you_. “A-Anyways, I just want you to know that I’m doing well and I’ve come back home, and I’m going to see to it that I do right by you and Mama, no matter what. And… and I love you.”

 He felt his throat closing in on him and rushed the end, surprised by the sudden well of emotions that took hold. When he’d received the news of his father’s passing he’d been sad, of course, but he wasn’t distraught. Maybe he somehow he already knew and had been expecting it, or maybe he’d just seen so much death that he had come immune to it like Renly had said he would—a thought that frightened him more than he’d ever admit to. But seeing his father’s grave and saying the things he wished he could have said to him while he was alive, brought back the sense of loss and grief he’d been missing, making his throat tighten and his eyes sting a bit with unshed tears. He embraced it, though, relieved to know that he hadn’t become numb to death, especially the death of his own father—the man who raised him and gave him the life he’d had for so long.

 As an afterthought he placed the cross on the top of the tombstone, fingertips brushing the smooth stone. He felt his mother move behind him, and turned to see her approaching, reaching out to touch the pendant.

 “We gave this to you on your twelfth birthday,” she mumbled, straightening it out so the tip of the cross pointed north. “Have you had it with you all this time?”

 “Yeah… I’ve kept it with me since you gave it to me.”

 She turned to look at him, but instead of glaring or giving him a cold stare, she was looking at him with the familiarity he’d been longing for. She was looking at him like he was her son and not some stranger dressed up like the boy she once knew. Reaching out she touched Loras’ cheek, her warm palm comforting after having spent so long without his mother’s gentle touch. He didn’t dare move, not knowing what she was doing or what she was looking for. But she was searching for something, her eyes staring deep into his own, then skirted over his face, drinking in his appearance, as if this was the first time she’d seen him.

 “Your father would be happy to know you had it with you when you went away,” she finally said. That was when Loras reacted, reaching out to pull her into a hug. She didn’t resist, her arms wrapping around his waist as he tugged her in close. She was smaller in his arms than he remembered her being, his chin resting on top of her head and his arms wrapping all the way around her narrow shoulders, so much so that he could almost hug himself in the process. But to have her hugging him again was like nothing else, Loras having missed the simple embrace of his mother more than he’d thought possible.

“I’m glad you came home, Loras,” she whispered as the wind rustled the tall grass all around them.

 “I’m glad I came home, too, mama...”

XX

  “So… still no lady, huh?”

 Willas glanced up from his book, glasses perched on the end of his nose, magnifying just the bottom of his eyes, making him look like some sort of nocturnal creature. “What?”

 “No lady in your life,” he continued, sliding the tip of his knife underneath his fingernail, cleaning a speck of dirt from under it. Kicking his feet out across the porch, he grinned as Willas rolled his eyes and shifted on his chair under the lantern that cast the porch in a warm glow.

 “No, and even if there was I wouldn’t be introducing you two. You’d be liable to tell her embarrassing stories from my youth.” Despite his deadpan stare there was amusement in his tone. Loras didn’t prod further, though, knowing just why Willas didn’t have a lady in his life. The quiet, studious type wasn’t much favoured down South in the farming community, and a cripple was even worse. It wasn’t as if Willas was shunned, but he’d never been seen as proper marriage material. Loras had a few thoughts about the closed-minded, unimaginative people he’d come to associate with his old community, but he thought it best to not press further, knowing it’d only make Willas feel uncomfortable.

_I’m just getting back on their good side—no need to bring up my brother’s misfortunes because of a stifled society._

 Instead he shrugged and sat forward, hooking a stool leg with his foot, pulling it close to rest between his legs. Twirling the knife around, he tossed it against the seat of the stool, pleased with how easily it went into the wood. He knew Willas was watching what he was doing over the edge of his book but ignored him, lifting the knife from the wood only to flatten his hand on the stool, spreading his fingers out. “How come Margaery doesn’t have a man in her life?”

 “She was engaged for a little while after you’d left,” Willas began, but slowed as Loras began pressing the knife between his fingers, going unhurriedly at first but speeding up with each pass, little thuds punctuating the silence. “What are you doing?” Willas asked instead of continuing his story.

 “Playing five-finger filet,” Loras mumbled, going a bit faster, breaking out into a grin as he missed his fingers every time, the knife pressing into the wood a satisfying feeling. “Continue—Margaery was engaged.”

 “Oh… Oh, right, she was engaged to Joffrey Lannisters and—”

 Loras almost took off his pinkie. Stopping just before the knife connected, Loras pulled his hand out of the way and dropped the knife, the clatter of the metal against the wood loud on the deck. Checking his pinkie over, he rubbed it as he looked at Willas incredulously. “Joffrey _Lannister_?”

 “Yes, she was engaged to a Lannister. This surprises you why?”

 “Only because I robbed them about a thousand times and punched Tywin Lannister in a muddy ditch one day.”

 Willas just stared at Loras, eyes framed by the start of laugh lines a bit wide, expression unreadable. It wasn’t until he broke out into a grin that told Loras the Lannisters weren’t exactly favoured in their household anymore. “I heard rumours about Tywin getting into some sort of scuffle, but I never thought it was with _you_.”

 Loras bristled slightly. _Why is everyone so surprised I did all of these things?_ “He was threatening a friend of mine,” was all he said.

 Shaking his head, Willas let out a low whistle and ran a hand through his curls, shaking them apart. “I think I owe you a drink for that. The Lannisters aren’t the most favourable family around Highgarden anymore.”

 “What happened?” Loras was relieved to hear that. He didn’t much like the Lannisters after Tywin had tried to kill Renly.

 “Turns out Joffrey had a reputation down at some of the brothels with the ladies. Apparently he was a common patron, but worse than that, he requested strange things—harmful things. I don’t know the details and I don’t care to, but whatever he requested it was true and it was dangerous. Everyone soon learned he wasn’t the most stable of men and, well, Pa understandably called off the wedding.”

 Loras frowned, and picked up the fallen knife. “So they’re out of the picture now? Completely? I mean, he didn’t hurt Margaery, did he?”

 “No, no, he didn’t, don’t worry about that, you don’t have to do anything—Joffrey’s dead already. Choked on a walnut few winters back,” Willas said.

 There was an awkward pause, Loras mulling over what Willas had said and how he’d said it. _‘You don’t have to do anything—Joffrey’s dead aready’_. Loras glanced over at Willas, their eyes locking, Willas looking a bit bashful for a moment, as if he was thinking the same thing Loras was. _He thought I’d kill him… he thinks I’m just a mindless killer…_

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Willas said softly.

 Loras nodded, knowing Willas was lying. It was a subconscious slip, one that was lurking just below Willas’ continual well-mannered surface. Since he’d returned everyone had been a bit wary around him whether they realized it or not. He’d been gone for so long and there were so many tales circulating—some true and others completely false—that there was room to wonder where the legends ended and Loras began. Loras wasn’t the same uncertain boy Willas had confronted in the barn, and Willas wasn’t the same quiet, reassuring older brother Loras had always run to with his troubles.

 They’d both changed, and it seemed the gap was harder to breach then either had anticipated.

 “I don’t mindlessly kill people, Willas,” Loras mumbled, placing the knife on the stool. Sitting back he pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a slow breath of air.

 “I know you don’t.”

 Silence.

 Finally, Willas spoke again. “But have you? I mean… have you killed a man?”

 Loras would have laughed at his brother’s naivety if he wasn’t so blind himself. Must be a Tyrell trait. “I didn’t survive this long without killing a few men,” he drawled out, crossing his arms over his chest. Staring out across the way he let out another sigh. “You do what you gotta do to survive. I didn’t just kill for the sake of killing, though. There was always a reason for what I did. And yeah, there were options of course, but the other option was usually me ending up dead instead.” Turning to Willas he sent him a level stare. “You write about men like me, Willas. You shouldn’t be shocked when you meet a real person who’s carried out the actions you glorify in your tales.”

 Loras couldn’t read his brother’s expression for a time, face blank as they just regarded each other under the yellow light of the porch. Finally he nodded, a sense of understanding in his gaze. Willas knew and Willas would try and accept it—that’s all Loras could ask for. They didn’t say anything else on the matter, and instead Willas returned to the original topic, plopping his book down on the table beside him, obviously figuring he wasn’t going to get much reading down. “Margaery doesn’t want to marry until the ranch is fully hers. We’re still going through some legal stuff about the inheritance and the estate, and if she married now her husband would legally get Highgarden. So we’re waiting— _she’s_ waiting. She doesn’t seem too displeased, though. She thinks most of the men around her are uninteresting.”

 “I don’t blame her,” Loras said, grinning. “None of them are very attractive or particularly bright. She’d get bored with most of them in a week.”

 “A week? I’d give it five days.”

 Another Tyrell trait—most people who weren’t part of the family were seen as being terribly boring.

 “Speaking of marriage… how’s Sansa?” Loras finally asked. He’d been staving off the question for weeks now, not wanting to know just in case something terrible befell her after he’d left. He didn’t think he would deal with the guilt of it all if things hadn’t worked out well for her like they had for him. He’d feel even more selfish than he already did.

 “She got married a year or so after you left to a kid named Harry. I don’t know the details but they seem happy enough. The Starks are still cursing your name, though.”

 “I’d have been terrible for her—we both know that,” he said, relieved she was fine but more than a little miffed the Starks were angry with him. What he’d done was for the best for the entire family. Loras would have been a terrible husband and a worse father—if he could ever have kids that was. After kissing Renly the embrace of a woman seemed foreign to Loras; strange, almost. Like a cog in a clock that wouldn’t fit. God didn’t make Loras to love a woman; not like how he loved Renly.

 As if Willas was reading his mind the next question he asked brought up Loras’ love-life, a completely innocent line of questioning that would no doubt result in answers less than normal. “Did you find any companionship with some pretty ladies on your travels?”

 Loras shook his head, smiling slyly. “Most of the pretty ladies out there you had to pay for. Not really my style…”

 “So you went without for years?”

 Loras laughed, shook his head, and rolled his head to the side to regard Willas. He could tell him—he’d already told him he was a killer, they all knew he was a robber, and he’d already proven to be a mean gambler, having played with some of the men in town, winning ever game. Why not tell him he was a sodomite? Maybe the hot sun all day had fried his brain, or maybe he was just tired of hiding everything from his family, but whatever it was Loras decided he’d tell him. Not go into details of course, the mere thought of Renly still too much to handle, but he’d inform him. “I didn’t go without for years. In fact, I had someone with me at all times who I could become… uh, intimate with.”

Willas quirked a brow, though, a smile on his lips as he waited for Loras to elaborate. “You traveled with a woman outlaw?”

 “Well yes, but she wasn’t who I was in love with.” Loras let that sit in the air, hoping Willas would figure it out.

 It seemed he overestimated his brother’s powers of deduction.

 “I don’t follow, then. You didn’t have a woman with you and you didn’t go to the brothels, so…” Something must have clicked because the look Willas was giving him was one that could only be described as shock. _He looks like a fucking ground squirrel out looking for danger_ , he thought. But the look became less funny the longer it lasted, Willas just stared at Loras, not saying anything. Finally, “you were with a man…”

 Loras just nodded, trying to stay confident under the gaze of his brother who was no doubt judging him. He thought he was long over being concerned with what others though, having accepted his sexuality long ago. But suddenly he realized how much he still cared—at least where his family’s opinions were concerned. He could handle Willas being wary around him for killing people, but to shun him for who he loved… Loras wasn’t so sure that was something he could just brush off.

 “I don’t need you judging me,” Loras grumbled eventually, wrapping his arms tighter around him, chin lowered. “I know well and good that sodomy is illegal and God says he’s against it, but God has said some other things most people round here don’t follow, so I see no harm in loving who I love.”

 Willas finally closed his mouth and nodded. “I… well I am surprised, but at the same time… well I should have expected it, shouldn’t I have?”

 Loras shrugged. At least he wasn’t yelling. “I suppose?”

 “Well you were never very interested in the ladies walking around. I suppose being homosexual would do that.”

 “There isn’t anything wrong with it. I was only with one man and we were together for all eleven years. A-And we’re still in love. And it’s not an issue.” Loras felt like he was fifteen again, trying to explain why the pitcher in his room was broken after he’d knocked it over trying to lasso it.

 “No… no I suppose there isn’t anything wrong with it. I mean, when you consider the other things going on in this world. I never was one for religion in the first place so I’ve no place to judge you for crimes stated in the bible.”

 Loras lifted his head then to peer across at Willas. He wasn’t angry with him, and he didn’t seem to be judging him. Rather he was mulling over the news—chewing it, almost. That was when Loras realized his brother just gave him some information he was unaware of, too. “You don’t believe in God?”

 “I haven’t been to church in years, Loras. I don’t only read pieces of fiction—I’ve read books that have come in from all over the country and over-seas; books by free thinkers and scientists, and books on philosophies from all over the world. And after reading them I came to the conclusion that God has never really been a good enough explanation to me. I stopped believing when you were still around, but I didn’t stop attending church until a few years ago. I didn’t want to hurt mama—she’s always been deeply religious and she was going through a tough time with father.”

 Loras couldn’t say he understood it completely, but then again he was pretty sure Willas didn’t completely understanding his attraction to other man. Just because you didn’t understand something didn’t make it wrong—just different. A lesson Loras had learned out on the open trails. “Well, I guess we both have something a little bit queer about us.”

 Willas nodded, locking his fingers together. “I guess so, little brother. So… want to show me that trick with your knife? What was the game?”

 “Five finger fillet.” Loras pulled out the knife and waggled it in front of Willas, unable to stop the grin that spread across his face along with the relief he was feeling. “Want to learn the trick to keeping all your fingers?”

“There’s a trick?”

 Loras shrugged. “Trick or just being lucky—either way I’ve never lost a finger. You should be fine, too. I think. Just don’t think about chopping your finger off and you shouldn’t actually do it. Or you might—hard to say.”

 “That is very encouraging, Loras.”

 “I try.”

XX

 Loras woke with a start and a chill.

 He’d been dreaming—something about Renly and a snowy field, nothing but a puff of breath between the two as they just stood in the silent grove. It had been peaceful, their arms wrapped around each other, skin pink from the cold and mouths turned upward into small, relaxed smiles. Loras couldn’t be sure if this was a dream or the replay of a memory, but he enjoyed it none the less.

 But the cold slowly became more real the only he stayed in the ream—tangible in an uncomfortable way. Just as Renly was moving in for a kiss Loras woke, eyes snapping open as a cold wind blew through his open window to tickle his bare back.

 Groggy and disoriented, he rolled on to his back and stared up at the ceiling, wrapping his blanket tight around him. Glaring at the window he sighed, watching the curtains flap in the cold winter breeze. He’d been in extreme conditions before and adapted well enough, but it seemed that after spending the summer back in Texas his body had gone back to its old ways, a simple cold wind enough to make him shiver.

 Of course, all the winters he’d spent up North in the cold had always been with Renly, the two warming each other in their bed, naked limbs pressed tight together. Loras remembered the first time Renly had suggested they get naked to stay warm like it was yesterday, the two covered in mud and rainwater, hiding out in a shack after almost losing each other for good. He remembered how curious he’d been about the suggestion, although it was based more on his burgeoning sexuality that anything else. But when Renly had suggested it later on, months after the incident and well into their relationship, Loras agreed. It worked, much to his surprise, and that was how they spent most of their cold winters, tangled together under the blankets, gloriously naked and bare to each other in every way.

 But Renly wasn’t here. Renly hadn’t been with Loras for six months, something he seemed to forget on a regular basis. No matter how long it had been the ache Renly left was still present, a constant reminder of what they had and how they’d both let it all go because they had different paths in life. Sometimes he’d curse Renly for leaving—for not going with him—but then he’d remember that he had a choice to follow Renly instead. He was just as much a part of their separation as Renly was. That’s how it had always been between them—equal in every way.

 The cold was persistent and the sun was rising slowly off in the distance, the cold blue spread of dawn sliding up the white walls of his still bare room. Sighing, Loras contemplated closing the window and getting another hour of shut-eye, but ended up rising instead, knowing he’d just drift off thinking about Renly.

 Margaery was in dining room when he arrived, sipping camomile tea, newspaper in his hand as she scanned the headlines. She smiled when she saw Loras, but her attention quickly returned to the articles, lips pursed and teacup poised halfway to her lips. Sitting down across from her he snatched a piece of toast from the middle of the table, not bothering with butter or jam.

 One of the servants arrived with a cup of coffee for him in due time, and he wrapped his hands carefully around the mug, letting the warmth from the liquid seep into him. He still wasn’t quiet used to properly prepared coffee, the stuff he had out on the road strong as all hell and thick like tar. The first time he’d ever had it was when Greyjoy made a batch of ‘cowboy’ coffee for everyone the night after Loras had killed his first man. It had been a good introduction to the life he’d signed up for—gritty, dirty, and overwhelming.

 He could still remember how Renly looked at him as he went to take his first sip—the amusement lurking just below, a little smile tugging at his lips as he tried to remain relaxed, as if he feared his excitement would deter Loras from trying. But he took a big gulp because he was brash and young and wanted to impress Renly.

 He’d coughed for a good ten minutes afterward, he reckoned. 

 “You alright?”

 Loras lifted his head to see Margaery staring at him from across the way. She’d put her newspaper down and was currently sipping her tea, the steam from the top long since gone. “What?”

 “Are you alright? You seem a bit lost in the depths of your coffee,” she said, setting her cup down on the saucer.

 Rubbing his eyes Loras nodded, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit tired, I guess. Didn’t sleep well.”

 “You haven’t been sleeping well at all since you came back.”

 Loras quirked a brow then, fingers dancing across the edge of the table with idle fancy. “What makes you say that?”

 “Well for a start, whenever I ask if you’re alright you always use the excuse you didn’t sleep well. Then there are the bags under your eyes and the yawning. Plus, you always look a bit lost, like you’re waiting for something. This all indicates to me you’ve got something on the mind.”

 Margaery was good at reading people, and she was particularly good at reading Loras, something that annoyed him on more than one occasion. Like right now.

 “I really am just tired, Margaery. Nothing is on my mind…”

 “For a man who was running from the law for so long, you sure are a terrible liar.”

 Loras snorted and chewed down on forgotten piece of toast that lay before him on the table. The rough texture scratched his mouth but he didn’t care, preferring to stay silent and in pain then have to admit to Margaery what he was thinking about. He’d only mentioned Renly twice in the time he’d been back; once to his mother when she asked who ‘The Stag’ was, and a second time when he was explaining to one of the ranch-hands what sort of horse Ricochet was. That was it. All other times he was completely silent. They knew he traveled with someone and they knew he had left and that was it. No further details were given by Loras.

 But it was getting hard to hide Renly’s existence completely. It was emotionally draining for a start, Loras only having his private thoughts in which to visit Renly, a place that was terribly lonely. Secondly it was inconvenient. Renly had been such a big part of his life that it was almost impossible to talk about his travels without mentioning him. But Loras didn’t relish discussing him in great detail, knowing if he verbalized their days together and the experiences they shared, the pain of his leaving would be that much more intense. As of now it was just something only he mulled over in his head, and in some way that made it safer. If he told anyone, however, it would be different—it would be out in the open and Loras wouldn’t be able to get away.

 He was a bomb, though; a stick of dynamite, with the fuse getting shorter and shorter. Soon he’d spill all about his love and there would be no taking it back.

 And it seemed like the fuse was dangerously close this morning.

  “Loras… Don’t lie to me… please?” Margaery continued. Loras just chewed on his toast faster, trying to drown out her voice with the sound of his grinding in his head.

 It wasn’t working.

 “Loras.”

 “I miss someone,” he snapped, surprising even himself as he said it. Margaery’s eyes widened a fraction before softness returned to her gaze, a spot of sympathy lurking below. Loras turned away from her gaze, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the floor. _Fucking fool, why’d you do that?_

 “Your partner?”

 Loras didn’t glare at the floor for long, his attention snapping back up at Margaery. She was sitting there, all poised and composed, head cocked to the side as she regarded him in that careful, unassuming manner she wore so well. But Loras knew—he _knew_ —she’d been expecting this. She knew that something was going on with Loras and his old partner and she was just waiting for him to say something. For a second he wanted to tell her no—prove her wrong. But she asked for no more lies, and Loras could never deny her anything, even if that meant ripping open old wounds. “Yeah… it’s my old partner.”

 “What happened?”

 “He left. We parted ways before I came here… he had somewhere else he needed to go.” Or wanted to go or had to go—Loras wasn’t sure. He wasn’t even sure Renly knew.

 “Were you two traveling together for long?”

 “Eleven years.”

 Her brows raised then, a look of surprise on her face. “Was he The Stag?”

 “Yes.”

 “What was his real name?”

 Loras hesitated then, but then replied with the truth. “Renly… his name is Renly.” Margaery smiled then, and Loras quirked a brow, mimicking her cocked head. “What?”

 “Nothing… what does he look like?”

 “You saw the Wanted posters I am sure,” he said, flicking some crumbs off his leg.

 “Yeah but I want to know what he looked like—really looked like. He sounds mysterious.”

 Snorting, Loras rolled his eyes. “Yeah, he was certainly mysterious… he has black hair, a straight nose, a few scars and… a face. I don’t know.”

 “What colour were his eyes?”

 Another pause before, “Blue… brilliant blue. Blue the colour of the sky on a clear day _.” Eyes you could get lost in._ “He was good at hiding his emotions for a time, but I soon got good at reading how he was feeling just by looking him in the eyes. Although he never hid his happiness—you always knew when he was happy. He’d let it show, you see. There would be this passion there—a spark. Made you light up, too, you know?”

 He’d made a mistake. He knew that by speaking just a bit about Renly he’d start remembering every detail about him and he wouldn’t be able to stop. He was remembering how it felt to be under Renly’s gaze—how it felt to see the smile reach his eyes and to know he was the cause of such happiness. It physically hurt, and Loras tried to shut the feelings down, but it was too late.

 And then Margaery had to go and make it worse.

 “Sounds like you cared for him a lot.”

 Loras felt his throat close in on him and it hurt to swallow, his eyes stinging from tears that threatened to come. Clenching his jaw he nodded, wishing he could be strong like he was supposed to be; wishing he didn’t miss Renly as much as he did; wishing he wasn’t so goddamn dependant on him; wishing he wasn’t so lost.  “I love him more than you’ll ever know…” he mumbled, not even caring that he’d just said love.

 Margaery saw the tears but didn’t say anything about it. In fact, she didn’t even make mention of Loras’ sudden confession like he expected her to. Instead she reached across the table, palm facing up, and wiggled her fingers, silently requesting for him to join his hand with hers. Doing as she asked, he automatically felt himself relaxing as their palms touched. Her skin was warm and soft, and her small hands were strong over top his own rougher, broader ones. Staring down at her hands he held on, watching the light reflect off of one of her rings—a piece of jewellery she always had on, even when working out in the field with the cattle.

 As they sat Loras tried to remind himself of why he’d returned. He’d returned to be with his family—his family who needed him back and who wanted him back. His family who loved him and cherished him and accepted him even though he’d run off and done things he didn’t even want to speak of. Even though he’d fallen in love with a man and defied all normal convention. Despite all of that they were still here, holding his hand and rubbing his knuckles and making him feel like he was cherished.

 It was hard living without Renly, but he knew that it’d be harder to not come back to this—to his home and to his family. They needed him and he needed them; simple as that.

 The ache of losing Renly would leave eventually—not today or tomorrow and maybe not in another six months, but it would get easier. Just like everything else in life, Loras had to adapt; roll with the punches and conform to his situation. He couldn’t hesitate with what life threw at him. He just had to accept it and live his life.

 “Thank you, Margaery,” he finally whispered, looking up at her.

 She smiled as Loras brought her hand up to his lips, kissing the top of her hand gently before letting go. “You’re welcome, Loras. Just, when you’re feeling a bit better you should tell me more about this man that has gone off and run away with my brother’s heart and made him feel so terrible. I’d like to know who I should beat up if I ever encounter him.”

XX

 Loras had seen a lot in his short life. He’d seen more than most people would ever see in their lifetime. He’d become accustomed to the witnessing the stranger things—things that would make most shrink back in horror or lean forward in curiosity and anticipation. Nothing much surprised Loras anymore—he never gave anything any time to shock him. He anticipated things and studied situations carefully, the outcomes ones he was never caught off guard by. It came with the territory of being an outlaw for so long; reading a room and studying the people and the hazards, and always knowing where the weapons were should someone (and there was usually a ‘someone’) get angry and draw a gun.

 No, Loras reckoned it was hard to surprise him anymore. In fact, there was only one person who could still really, truly surprise him…

 “Did you break your pencil again?”

 Willas looked up from his resting place beside the barn, a scowl on his features and a broken pencil in his grasp. It was high summer, the sun bearing down on them in the long afternoon, and most people had taken to the shade in search of a reprieve from the heat. Loras was no different, having given up on fixing a fence in order to lounge under what little shade the barn offered. Willas seemed to be doing the same, a pad of paper on his lap with line after line of whatever it was he was writing.

 Loras remembered him talking about writing a story about a bandit who fell in love. Not based on anyone specific, of course—or so he told Loras with a sly grin and shifty eyes.

 “I guess I got a bit frantic. Or maybe the heat melted the lead inside this thing,” he mumbled, passing it to Loras. Taking it, he pulled out a knife and began shaving the tip back into a fine point, being gentle so as not to snap the wood.

 “How is the story going?”

 “Good,” Willas said, taking the pencil back. “Just started talking about how pretty this lady is to the bandit.”

 Loras sighed and leaned against the barn, one foot hooked over the other. Taking a cigarette out, he lit it and took a long drag. “What’s this lady look like?” he asked on the exhale.

 “Black hair, blue eyes and a pretty smile that could melt your heart.”

 “You forgot the beard.”

 “I have no idea what you mean, Loras.”

 Loras smirked and took another drag. “Well, I guess depending on when this story is set the lady in question didn’t have a beard. She thought she’d look too old with one. And too scruffy.”

 “Oh, yes, of course. Well, while we’re on the topic of this lady—what was her favourite colour?”

 “Uh… yellow, I think? Green?”

 “Right, then she had a yellow bandana tied in her hair. Thanks, Loras, you’re great with ideas.”

 “Yeah, you’re welcome,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes. Staring out across the way, Loras listened to the chatter of the grasshoppers in the field and the low grumbles from some of the farm hands who were hiding out in the barn. They were supposed to be working, but no one seemed to demand they do so under these conditions.

 It was remarkably hot, even for Texas.

 So hot that Loras found he was falling asleep as he leaned against the barn wall. The shade offered a reprieve from the thick air, and the lazy atmosphere made Loras relax, slumping a bit against the wall, smoke dangling from his fingers as his head began to bow. Eyelids lowering, he didn’t fight the sudden exhaustion and simple dozed like a horse, still standing and still slightly aware, but mostly floating in the period between wakefulness and slumber.

 “He’s either made of solid ice or he doesn’t feel heat at all…”

 Loras pulled himself out of his nap long enough to listen to what Willas was mumbling about, brows furrowing as he tried to figure out what in Hell’s name he was going on about. “What?”

 “That man coming down the path.”

 Loras opened his eyes then and peered across the heat wave covered trail. There was a man far off in the distance, swaying casually back and forth on his mount. Immediately Loras’ hand strayed down to the revolver that always rested at his side, fingers sliding across the handle, gripping it loosely. Texas was still embroiled in the war between civilization and anarchy, those who were used to the old ways unlikely to give it up without a fight, while others were more than willing to fight for that hint of culture and stability. It made for untold dangers out in the middle of the prairies, smaller farms frequently victims of raids. It also made Loras on edge most days, his eyes continually scanning the distance for any sign of threat. One of the reasons he stuck around was to protect the farm; no better way to ward off danger than to have someone who had seen his fair share, prowling the area.

 But as the man drew closer Loras became less sure they were a threat, nothing about them saying much more than someone coming down to visit—maybe even seek shelter for the night or a place to hide from the heat for the day. That, too, was not uncommon.

 What wasn’t common, though, was the sense of familiarity that prickled along Loras’ spine and down into his gut as he looked at the man. He was still too far off to make any real distinguishable characteristics out, but there was something there—something that caused Loras’ heart to beat just a little faster and for his palms to tingle just the slightest.

 Pushing away from the barn Loras walked out into the sun, slowly heading toward the man as he came closer and closer. Peering out across the way he shoved his hat down a bit further, the brim blocking out the sun, making it easier to see whoever was coming. Willas was asking something but Loras ignored him, too focused on the man and the feeling he had looking at him. His heart was beating faster and faster, and the urge to see who it was, was becoming unbearable. He didn’t want to get his hopes up but the desire for the person to be who he thought it was had become too much to push aside, his hopes already too high to try and smother now.

 But just as he thought he might go mad with anticipation, the man lifted his head and allowed the sunlight to highlight his saintly smile and devilish eyes.

_Renly._

 Loras broke out into a run then, closing the distance between the two of them quickly. Renly had jumped down from his horse just in time for Loras to knock his hat off in a wild attempt at getting him into a hug. As soon as his arms were around Renly, all the troubles Loras had been feeling melted away, his strong frame so familiar and so sturdy Loras could have wept. Instead he was laughing, unable to stop the physical release of joy that coursed through him. Renly was laughing to, his arms tight around Loras, squeezing him harder than he ought to. Loras just squeezed back, the two unwilling to let go as they embraced under the hot sun.

 “You came,” Loras whispered, kissing the side of Renly’s head before burrowing his face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent.

 “It just wasn’t the same without you, Little Rose,” Renly replied, pulling away finally. They stayed close, however, both itching to kiss but unwilling to stop soaking in each other’s features. Renly looked the same to Loras; maybe with a slightly messier beard and covered in dust from the road, and maybe a bit more handsome, but he was still Renly. Still whole and beautiful and wild and all _his_.

 Cupping his cheek Loras brushed his fingers along the course hairs and up to his ear, rubbing the skin behind it gently. Renly leaned into the touch and smiled softly at him, his own hands resting on Loras’ hips, neither caring at how intimate they were in the middle of the ranch.

 “Why did you come back?” Loras asked, unable to look at anything but Renly. Renly seemed to be the same, his gaze skirting over Loras’ lips, his scar and his hair, before landing on his eyes once more.

 “Like I said, wasn’t the same without you. Besides, I heard from a few folks that you could always use a hand at the ranch… I mean, if the offer is still good.”

 Loras didn’t answer and simply pulled him in for a fierce kiss, not even hesitating for a second. And it was then that Loras realized what he’d been missing. With their bodies pressed close together, the taste of peppermint and tobacco on his tongue and the tangle of heavy black locks in his hair, Loras knew that coming back to Highgarden wasn’t what he thought it’d be like because he was missing something—he that sense of belonging somewhere—that sense of being a part of something, no matter how small it was.

 He was missing home.

 But it was when Renly found his way back to him that Loras finally felt complete. It was in that moment that Loras realized that all the traveling he did and all the adventures he had were only made so special because of who he was with, not where he was or what he was seeing. The best experiences of his life was with the man before him; Renly was his story and his life experiences, the source of his greatest moments and his tragedies.

Renly was _home_.

And finally Loras felt complete for the first time in his life.


End file.
